


Factory Reset

by Ladytalon



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Back On My Bullsh!t, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Flagrant Abuse of the New-U System, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Memory Loss, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Alternating, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Slow Updating Author Alert, The Forbidden Brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:27:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 56,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22624048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladytalon/pseuds/Ladytalon
Summary: A corporate rival sets their sights on the Atlas Corporation, but the main obstacle to their plans will need to be removed first.  Part of theCat and MouseAU.
Relationships: Jeffrey Blake/Ted Blanco
Kudos: 9





	1. Scars As Another Type of Memory

Ted is acutely aware that it’s a miracle that Blake is still with him; he’s not too sure how supportive _he_ could be if their circumstances were reversed. 

No, that’s a lie – of course he’d try his best…but surely Blake is getting tired of Ted’s silences during the day and the nightmares that wake them both in the middle of the night. Once the novelty of life on Promethea with a washed-up assassin wears off, Blake might just decide to leave and Ted still doesn’t know how to regain the part of himself that had drawn Blake in the first place. He’s been trying hard to pretend that nothing had ever gone wrong and that he’s the same as ever but ‘faking it before making it’ is turning into an uphill battle and Ted is, as always, fighting alone. 

Blake looks up from where he’s perched on the sofa reading something on his ECHO-enabled tablet, and smiles. “Everything all right, love?”

He can almost feel the acid in the back of his throat as he swallows down the truth yet again. “Why wouldn’t it be? I got you, don’t I?” Ted forces a smile, sure that Blake’s going to see through it, but all Blake does is nod.

“Yes, you do.”

 _For how long?_ Ted looks away, wondering how long he can keep this up. “I got some things t’do, so…” he trails off, not sure if he wants Blake to come with him or stay there. If Blake tags along, Ted will have to worry about pretending everything’s fine. If he stays, then Ted will have to worry that something might happen to Blake when he’s not there to stop it. Those are just two of the options now running through his head, and Ted presses the heels of his hands against his eyes to stop the unwanted influx of thoughts.

He can hear Blake getting up and walking over to him. “Theodore.” 

“Headache,” Ted lies again, dropping his hands and trying not to jerk away from Blake’s gentle touch on the side of his face.

“Hmm.” Blake’s voice drops into its deeper register. “Must you leave right away, darling?”

“I should go,” Ted says, finally gathering the strength necessary to pull away from Blake’s hand. He needs to leave, but everything inside him is crying out to stay right there…while he still can. “I might be late, I dunno.”

Blake accepts this with a nod. “Of course. Shall I save dinner for you?”

Ted abruptly feels like laughing. “ _You_ are gonna cook?”

“Don’t be rude; I said nothing of the kind,” Blake says tartly. “Run along and be an admiral, now.”

“Since you told me I could,” Ted replies, “I better go do that.”

Blake kisses him and goes back to reading on the couch while Ted leaves their quarters. He’s supposed to be inspecting the new weapons made using the Corrazza blueprints, which is something he _should_ feel excited about, but Ted simply feels indifferent.

Yet another thing that seems to be wrong with him. 

He doesn’t even want to _think_ about the issues that have begun to crop up when he’s in bed with Blake, because until recently it’s been the only place he can actually forget everything.

Ted is halfway to the armory when he stops and decides to go to the nearest barracks, instead. There he finds a handful of soldiers who leap to attention upon spotting him, and he brusquely orders them on their way before looting a full set of armor from the man closest to his own size. His identity duly concealed beneath a sergeant’s helmet, Ted slowly makes his way through Meridian.

Promethea’s capital looks a lot different than it had when he’d been a painfully naïve recruit, eager to prove himself away from the repressive influence of Zed’s reputation. Atlas has bullied the swamp into submission – this section of it, at least – and now there’s an actual _city_. Civilians and military alike roam the streets beneath towering buildings limned in the flashing neon that has all but replaced the ominous red glow of most Atlas installations. Promethea’s come a long way from the barren, poisonous wasteland it had once been.

There are a few more buildings these days, created through Ted’s careful maneuvering of resources back when he’d been trapped here with only the occasional contract to keep him busy. When he’d murdered the remaining Lance command after the chain of unwanted resurrections, Ted had quickly realized that his troops needed secondary occupations to keep them busy. Most of the furloughed troops had jumped at the chance to build new settlements and bludgeon the environment into something approaching decent, for one reason or another. He’s still amazed that there had only been a handful of ratings who attempted a rampage through the civilian population before Ted had consolidated his hold on the garrison.

He wanders through the Metroplex and finds himself at Rise And Grind, which seems to have popped up as a rival to No Roast For The Wicked. The coffee stand is teeming with soldiers half-in, half-out of uniform and Ted slides onto an unoccupied stool to listen to the latest gossip. Today it’s about the garrison on Eunomia, though he also catches mentions of both himself and Blake – apparently the Lance has decided that it’s high time they were married.

Right.

The news from Eunomia is certainly nothing new, and Ted’s well aware of the fact that a decision must be reached. Perhaps it’s time that he went back into the field and disabled another power structure in sore need of renovation. At the very least, it would give him something else to do than worry about Blake’s inevitable departure.

Ted taps the counter to signal the Barista Bot and places his order, then adds Blake’s favorite. He can stop at their place before continuing on to the armory, and he’s sure that Blake will like that Ted’s thought of him. Unfortunately, one of the loitering corporals looks at him and smacks the nearest soldier. “Holy _fuck_ , it’s the Admiral!” 

He sighs at how quickly the atmosphere goes from relaxed to everyone leaping to attention. “Excuse me?” Ted demands, wondering if he can convince them that they’re mistaken. How the hell could they have found out?

“Good to see you, sir,” the whistleblower calls out, snapping off the most precise salute Ted’s seen in…well, he supposes that they all do that now.

He stares back at the corporal, still wondering how they could have possibly- “That damned bot broadcast my order, didn’t it.” Ted looks up at the screen hanging over the stand to see his name displayed there. “Thought I set that to ‘private’.”

“There’s been a Mali-ware incident, Admiral. Rise And Grind had to reset everything,” one of the others says helpfully.

Yet another network intrusion by Maliwan – wonderful. It seems their CEO is growing tired of being put off, and is determined to force Ted’s hand by any means necessary. Ted hasn’t heard of it yet, so it must have just happened. “Anything else affected by the breach…” he glances over at her rank markings “Private?”

The young woman colors up at being addressed directly. “My- I mean, there were reports of New-U interference in Lectra City, sir,” she stammers. That’s his signal to get moving. If Maliwan is fucking with their regeneration system, it means that old man Katagawa is getting ready to make a move. Ted really should have taken care of him before now. 

He takes the purloined helmet off and tosses it on the counter, nodding towards it as the Barista Bot putters back over with two cups. “Carry that for me.”

“Yes, Admiral,” she says, looking overwhelmed.

Ted picks up the coffee and turns to leave as she scrambles into place behind him with the helmet in her arms. “Which planet are you from, Private?” 

He pauses to look back at her and jerks his chin slightly to let her know that she should walk beside him. She hunches her shoulders and glances up at him. “Tantalus, sir.”

“I killed a few people there ten years ago, I think,” Ted says thoughtfully. “Nobody from your family, I hope.”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Anything I should know about your current CO?”

“…no, sir?”

Ted sniffs and keeps walking, wondering why he’s even bothering. She probably hasn’t been there long enough to experience the previous command’s…proclivities…but she’s new enough to not want to rock the boat. “There is, I expect to hear about it. When you go back, tell them your name came up for the training exercises on one of the moons. Dismissed.” He angles an elbow away from his body and waits until she takes the hint and tucks the helmet there before saluting and carefully backing away.

He runs into Master Sergeant DeWitt as he enters the neon-lit plaza of his building. “Morning, sir,” DeWitt calls out cheerfully. “Nice armor.”

“I’ll need someone to return it – Barracks #162.” Ted places the cups on an ornamental something-or-other and tosses the helmet at the other man. “One of your team should be able to handle it.”

DeWitt makes a vague attempt at a salute. “Sure thing; I’ll send Brandt. Colonel Ballard was looking for you just a moment ago; I think he went up to bribe Mister Blake with a coffee for your whereabouts.”

Ted suppresses a sigh and leaves the armor in a pile for DeWitt’s gofer, gathering up the coffee cups one more time before moving towards the building’s main lift. The platform rises smoothly upwards before halting at the top level reserved for Blake and Ted’s quarters. He can hear voices as he walks through the doors, and three heads turn upon his arrival – Blake, Ballard, and Ted’s adjutant. “There you are,” Blake says warmly. “Derrick has been searching for you.”

“So I’ve heard.” Ted ignores the others as he crosses the carpet to place Blake’s cup down in front of him. Blake smiles up at him and moves an identical cup off to the side in favor of the one Ted’s brought. “What d’you want, Byco.”

Ballard launches into an explanation about Maliwan’s most recent hacking attempt and Ted listens with half an ear while he intercepts his adjutant’s ECHO pad and begins rearranging items on the day’s agenda. “I heard most of this down at Rise And Grind. From a _private_.”

“Intelligence reports say that they’re testing the waters. There’s a contract out for you, sir.”

Blake laughs incredulously. “They’ve sent an… _assassin?_ For _him?”_

“It sounds nuts, sure, but all it takes is one armor-piercing round to knock the Admiral out of commission. The attack on the New-U at Lectra is clearly a test; if he doesn’t regenerate, the Crimson Lance are screwed. Uh, pardon my Promethean.”

“Just the one station is affected, then?” Ted asks, finishing clearing his own schedule and handing the pad back. “We’ll upload my vitals just before going to check it out.”

Ballard stares at him. “You’re not going to go…yourself, sir?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Sir” this time the honorific is directed towards Blake “please tell me you’re not on board with this.”

Blake steeples his hands together and taps his fingertips against his lips thoughtfully. “If I thought it might make any sort of difference, I would ask him to reconsider. Theodore…are you certain this is a wise course of action?”

“There haven’t been any ships in for at least a month, and none of them carried nonessential personnel. What’s that tell you?” Ted asks, trying to work up the energy to at least feel _angry_ that one of his own will be trying to murder him an hour from now. Which is strange, because the one emotion that seems to be readily accessible is anger. At the very least, it will be interesting to find out who’s responsible; maybe there’s more than one. He glances over at Blake, who is staring at him with a unreadable expression on his face. “ _What_.”

“I’ll tell you later.”

Later means that Blake will wait three seconds after the other two men leave before giving Ted a piece of his mind. Ted hears his lover following him into the kitchen unit, sniffing loudly as Ted dumps the coffee down the drain. “Let’s hear it.”

“ _Will_ you reconsider?”

“Why should I?” Ted asks honestly. “Worst case, I get shot. Gonna snag whoever it is anyway and be back in time for that dinner you ain’t gonna make. Not a big deal.”

Blake’s eyes don’t leave his, not for a second. “It should be. You _do_ know that your medical staff employs an actual trauma counselor?”

Ted supposes that he’s not quite the actor that he thought he was, if Blake is finally confronting him. “If you’re that traumatized by me then by all means, go see that fuckin’ hack.”

“Theodore,” Blake says quietly. 

“I’m fine.”

“No, you are not.”

“So you’re just gonna bust this out right before I gotta go round up a couple traitors?” Ted demands, anger flaring bright inside him. There it is, at last. “What the fuck, Jeff?”

Blake crosses to him and reaches out for his hands. “I thought it was time that we finally discussed it.”

“Oh, well, as long as _you_ think so.”

“You are only human, dear one. There is nothing wrong with-”

Ted yanks his hands away from Blake’s grasp. “There is _plenty_ wrong with that,” he hisses back. “I can’t _be_ human, Jeffrey. You heard Ballard – somethin’ happens to me, all these people have _shit_. Can’t even go to the goddamned Metroplex ‘thout a whole platoon crappin’ themselves. How you think they’d feel ‘bout their Lord and _fucking_ Savior goin’ to therapy ‘cause he’s a li’l upset over his dreams comin’ true?” 

At some point in his recital, his voice has risen to a shout and he finds himself screaming in Blake’s face with his hands wrapping themselves around Blake’s neck. The sudden realization of what he’s done washes over him and he freezes in place. “You’re hurting me,” Blake says mildly.

“Fuck.” Ted pulls back, horrified. “I didn’t mean to-”

“You’ve been holding yourself back for months now, Theodore.” Blake finger-combs his hair back into place and rubs at his throat. “I am here for you; you know that quite well, but the time has come for you to make a decision. Are you going to keep all of it pent up inside of you, or will you – pardon the pun – lance the wound?”

Ted stares at the palms of his hands. “I…I can’t do anything about that right now.”

Blake comes over and takes his hands again – this time, Ted allows it. “There is no ‘right’ time to discuss this, love. I’ve been waiting for such a thing for weeks, now, and I realize how unfair it is to bring this up right before you must leave.”

“Well, it ain’t ideal.” He watches as Blake’s long fingers fold over his. How can Blake even bear to touch him after what he’s just done?

“No, it is not,” Blake says softly. “So here is what we will do: you will go deal with…whatever this is, and we can discuss this when you return.”

It looks like the decision has been taken out of his hands. Had it ever been there in the first place? “I’m…I’m _sorry_.”

He feels the light press of Blake’s lips against the top of his bowed head. “Then _prove_ that you are. We will see each other after you get back.” Ted looks everywhere but at Blake as the other man leaves the room.

Despite the urge to simply strike out for Lectra City on his own and get it over with, Ted forces himself to wait for the strike team Ballard’s assembled. The settlement is several clicks out of Meridian proper, where there used to be nothing but swamp and unreliable gas vents. Lance engineers have done a decent job of taming the landscape over the years, but there’s still plenty to do – and plenty of soldiers who need the work as well as the distraction.

Ted glances around when their shuttle lands and he walks to the bottom of the ramp. If _he_ were given the job to kill him, he’d want a high vantage point – hardly anyone ever looks up when they’re searching for threats, not even an old assassin who should know better by now. Of course, you can’t go wrong with a good booby trap either…Ted hasn’t seen one of those in a while. “Sir, you really shouldn’t be out in the open like this,” his adjutant lectures, because of course he’s come along to harass Ted about his schedule.

“The whole point of me being here is so I can be out in the goddamned open, Sergeant…? The hell is your name, again?”

“Leith, sir.”

“I might as well inspect the new construction while I’m here,” Ted sighs. “The sooner I get shot, or whatnot, the sooner I can leave.”

Leith sighs, too. “Yes, sir. Would you like me to run over your schedule for the rest-”

“No.” Ted already knows what the rest of the day has in store for him, and he’s not sure if he should look forward to it or not. Blake will be the one making the decisions – perhaps that’s a good thing, because he’ll no longer have to worry about what Blake might or might not do. His stomach roils with unease and he’d normally press his hand there, but there are several men and women watching his every move; all he needs is to let them think he’s nervous about whatever the hell Maliwan has up their sleeve.

He spends almost two hours walking around and inspecting the buildings, growing more irritated by the minute until he’s finally had enough. “Just reboot the fucking thing; we’re leaving.”

The strike team receives their orders, and Ted goes into the main command office to speak with the duty officer about scheduling someone who’s actually able to detect foreign network intrusions _before_ they screw with vital systems. When he gets there, though, the officer is nowhere to be found. Typical satellite bureau laziness, Ted thinks. Now he’ll have to hunt the woman down and - is that a _hand_ sticking out of…?

Well, finally. Ted reaches back for his sword hilts, turning towards his adjutant to issue a command to get down and stay that way. 

He turns directly into the knife Sergeant Leith is pushing towards his kidneys. The sudden shock of pain collapses his knees and robs him of breath; the knife is pulled out and shoved into his ribs, next. “Couldn’t you have done this two hours ago?” Ted tries to ask, but all that comes out is a croaking sound. He lifts his eyes to his betrayer, noting distantly that the other man’s eyes are full of tears.

“I’m so sorry, sir. They’d kill him if I didn’t do this; I’m _sorry_ ,” Leith gasps, as if _he’s_ the one on his knees in a pool of blood. Though he technically is, since he’s crouching at Ted’s side. “Forgive me.” The knife twists before it’s pulled out a second time, and Ted finds himself on the floor with his vision going dark. By this time the New-U is being power-cycled and, Leith tells him, his code is being erased from the system as if it had never been there in the first place. 

Blake is going to be angry with him, Ted thinks as his world fades to black for the last time.


	2. Old Code, New Tricks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake travels to Lectra City and does a lot of wishful thinking...surely at least one of his wishes will be able to come true.

“What an absolute _idiot_ ,” Blake seethes, forgetting that the connection is still open. “I _told_ him that it was a bad idea-”

A delicate-sounding cough brings him back to himself. “Sir?”

Blake rubs at his temples. “Where is he?”

“That’s the problem,” Ballard says, and Blake feels cold tendrils of fear begin to curl around his heart. “The Admiral ordered the team to power-cycle the New U station just before he, uh…Mister Blake? Could you just…come here? Please? _Now?_ ”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible,” Blake promises and ends the call, reaching up to pat his hair back into place – a gesture of nervousness he’s never quite broken the habit of. His hands are shaking as he lowers them, so Blake curls his fingers into fists. 

He manages to round up several members of Ted’s surgical staff without having a complete breakdown, and stares at the blank screen of his ECHOpad to avoid any potential conversation on the way to Lectra City. Ballard should reach their joint destination first and…Blake isn’t sure what the colonel is supposed to be doing or what he _could_ do about what’s happened. All Blake knows is that Ted has died and the regeneration system hasn’t restored him.

Yet.

Surely it’s a matter of time; Ted’s cycled through the system so many times that there has to be _some_ code left. “We’ll get him back, Mister Blake.”

Blake looks up as his unofficial bodyguards move into position around him. Eli DeWitt eases himself down as if unsure of his welcome. “If that is the case, he should have been back by now.” Why hadn’t they simply brought Ted back to Meridian?

“I’m no expert, sir, but I _did_ catch some of the comm chatter – a few members of the strike team think that if they can get the New-U reset properly, it’ll take the Admiral back into the system loop. It’ll take some doing but we’re bringing some of the surgeons who worked on Ares when he – I mean, when Colonel Ballard brought him back to Promethea.” DeWitt reaches over to clap Blake on the shoulder before realizing that he should probably should keep his hands to himself. “Oh. Sorry, sir.”

He should say something to reassure the man that he won’t recommend disciplinary action, even though DeWitt’s team knows better by now, but all Blake can do is nod. His jaw aches from the effort involved in keeping himself from screaming and/or crying. “As far as distractions go, Master Sergeant, that was hardly effective.”

“I’m working on it, Mister Blake,” DeWitt promises. “We should be there in about an hour.”

Blake nods again, and tries not to despair. 

DeWitt’s hand finds his shoulder once more, and doesn’t let go.

The shuttle touches down at the half-finished settlement of Lectra City, and Blake is escorted to the half-finished medical facility. Ballard comes out to meet him, moving at a pace that is just short of a run. “Sir, if you’d come with me…?” The other man motions at the medical personnel, who break off from the pack and jog toward where the New-U is. “We’ve put him inside and gotten him ready for whatever the techs have planned. They might need to remove his chip to synchronize it, but I figured that you might want to see him in case…”

It doesn’t take a genius to realize ‘in case’ of _what_. “Yes, please.” Blake realizes that his breaths are becoming rapidly more shallow and he’s in imminent danger of a full-blown panic attack. “DeWitt-”

“You got it, sir,” his self-appointed guardian says, moving up close and taking his arm. “Colonel, if you’ll just give me the room number I’ll escort Mister Blake there myself.” Ballard pauses briefly before giving the requested information, and Blake is vaguely aware of being hustled through a few corridors until they arrive at a door which DeWitt opens for him. “I’ll be just outside if you need anything,” DeWitt promises.

Blake sags against the closed door and forces himself to breathe deeply. This is _not_ the end – he simply won’t allow it. Once he’s sure that he won’t immediately pass out, he raises his eyes to the still form on the other side of the room.

Ted’s been placed on a metal operating table and stripped to the waist – to allow easy access to his chip, no doubt. Blake approaches slowly, trying not to focus on how the underside of Ted’s body looks so much darker due to the blood settling there, and reaches out a hand. His love’s skin is cool to the touch and his fingers have already stiffened with rigor mortis, which makes the skin feel odd as Blake’s own fingers curl around them. “If you do not regenerate, I will kill you,” Blake says sharply.

He could have been sleeping, if Blake didn’t know any better – and if the two terrible rents in Ted’s side hadn’t made death inevitable. Blake looks at the wounds as dispassionately as he’s able, noting that one of them had been a direct hit to Ted’s left kidney. Ted had most likely been struck there first to debilitate him long enough for the second strike to hit home; Blake would have thought that Maliwan’s assassin might work from a longer range. Whomever it had been, Ted had certainly trusted them enough to allow the initial approach.

Either that, or Ted had been too distracted by their earlier confrontation to protect himself in time.

Blake leans down to rest his head against Ted’s chest, wondering if he’ll hear the steady thump of a heartbeat there ever again. _Why_ hadn’t he told Ted that he loved him before Ted left? The last thing that Ted will have remembered about Blake is that Blake had been disappointed in him. This can’t be the end for them. Not yet.

A quiet knock pulls Blake upright, but he quickly bends to kiss Ted’s mouth before crossing the room and opening the door. DeWitt gently shunts him aside as the medical personnel file past. “Why don’t we take a walk while they work on the Admiral? I could show you around.” 

Blake nods because there’s really no other choice – he’s not about to stay and watch them cut into Ted’s spine to access the chip, and pacing outside the door isn’t a valid option either. “We might as well.”

“They’ll bring him back, sir.”

“Of course,” Blake says dutifully.

DeWitt looks at him for a moment. “What about sparring practice?”

They end up on the far side of the settlement with DeWitt’s men stationed around them watchfully, and Blake manages to shake off the worst of the dread by losing himself in the exercises DeWitt runs him through. He also manages to get himself knocked on his ass a few times, but it _has_ been a while. “Best out of…what is this, twelve?”

“Sounds about right, Mister Blake. Would you like to switch weapons?”

Blake is abruptly seized with the childish notion that if he beats his ‘trainer’ with a staff, it will bring Ted back. “Yes.” After all, he thinks, any idiot can hit someone with a stick. 

His training with Ted back on Helios allows Blake to hold his own, but he’s still a bit rusty due to the fact that he hasn’t actually trained with anyone in several months. During a break in which Brandt and one of the others – Holden, Blake thinks her name is – run to fetch water, Blake mops at the sweat on his brow and glances over towards the New-U. “Anything?”

“Not yet, sir,” DeWitt says regretfully. “I’ve got two of mine practically sitting on top of that thing, though, so you’ll be the second to know.”

“Second?”

“I figure Admiral Ares will be the _first_ to know if it works. Another round, Mister Blake?”

The distraction has served its purpose, but now all that Blake wants is to be back at Ted’s side. “I thank you for the invitation, Master Sergeant, but I believe I should return to the command center.”

“Yes, sir. We’ll escort you back to officer’s quarters if you’d like to grab a shower.”

Holden is waiting for them once they return to the command building, and Blake accepts the glass of water she extends towards him. “Officer’s quarters are just through here, sir,” she says deferentially. “I’ll have a change of clothes ready for you once you’re finished.”

Blake nods at her in dismissal and she snaps to attention before leaping off. “She certainly performs her duties with zeal,” he comments.

“She’s hoping the Admiral will consider her for the Division when he gets around to building it back up,” Brandt says, falling silent at the glare DeWitt gives him.

Somehow Blake can’t picture the kind-natured, eager-to-please corporal as a Lance Assassin…but then again, he wouldn’t have pegged Ted as one either if the proof hadn’t been impossible to deny. “I’ll pass her name on at the next opportunity,” Blake says to alleviate the strained silence. “Shall we meet up again in, say, fifteen minutes?”

“Let’s make it thirty and you’ve got a deal, Mister Blake,” DeWitt says.

Blake finds himself glad of the extra time because once he closes the door behind him, it becomes impossible to pretend that he’s not absolutely miserable.

Sheer force of will drives him towards the bathroom and Blake collapses with his back to the wall. His skin feels clammy and his heart is beating faster than it should. Blake tilts his head back and closes his eyes tightly, his mind alive with all the possible outcomes of this terrible, terrible situation. Unfortunately, they all lead to Ted’s permanent death…and for so stupid a reason. 

He doesn’t think he’ll be able to survive this – not this time. Not again.

Oh, _why_ hadn’t Blake confronted him earlier so that they could have worked through things together? 

Blake sits on the floor with his head in his hands for several more minutes before he realizes that he needs to get going – he’s already lost track of the time. The facilities have been prepared for him as promised, so Blake showers and dries himself quickly. He finds a change of clothes waiting just outside the door and is lacing up his shoes when he hears raised voices in the corridor outside.

Yanking the door open with his heart in his mouth, Blake looks around in confusion as DeWitt charges up to him. “What has happened?”

DeWitt has an odd look on his face. “The New-U Just activated.”

“Oh, thank god.” Relief weakens Blake’s knees, and he seizes the door frame to prevent falling.

“Yes, sir,” DeWitt says cautiously. “There’s…there’s been a problem with that.”

“I beg your pardon?” What could have possibly gone wrong? “Was Ares reconstructed or was he not?”

DeWitt looks everywhere but at Blake. “He was…and he _wasn’t_.”

“What is that supposed to mean,” Blake demands sharply. He begins walking towards the examination room where Ted’s body had been left to slowly decompose, and the other man scrambles to keep up with him.

“The backup of the Admiral’s DNA was corrupted; we think the spy gained access to it but didn’t have enough time to wipe it out completely. The techs were able to match what was left with an earlier copy they found in the nearest New-U but they kinda…mashed it together and, uh. The copy was from a station that’s been offline for a while. Like, a _really_ long while.”

Blake stops dead in his tracks. “Are you telling me that he…?”

“Yessir.”

“How long ago was the…copy…made, Master Sergeant?”

DeWitt looks as though he’s in pure agony. “It’s been about twenty-five years, sir.”


	3. A rerun for everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted wakes up to a world different from the one he left and meets Jeffrey Blake again, for the first time.

The sound of multiple voices arguing penetrates his consciousness first, but they come to a startled halt when he makes the mistake of trying to open his eyes. When did Promethea’s sun get to be this bright? “The fuck just happen t’me?” Ted complains, shielding his eyes against the glare of the…operating lights? What had he done _this_ time?

“Glad to have you back with us, sir,” a voice says.

Sir? When did the infirmary start handing postops over to the lieutenants? He squints up at the unfamiliar man addressing him and starts to scramble upright upon seeing the bird pinned to the uniform’s front. “Beg pardon, Colonel-”

“What? Hawkins, get Blake in here _now_ ,” the colonel yells before looking back down at Ted and extending a placating hand. “Just…oh, shit. Just, uh, relax. We’ll have Mr. Blake here in just a minute, sir.”

Ted looks around, trying to see who’s behind him, but all that’s there is a blank wall. “Uh. Who’re you talkin’ to, sir?”

The man actually groans aloud and places his hands over his mouth, looking horrified at something. “Oh my _fucking_ god.” Ted dares another glance around the room and sees that everyone else present seems to be having the same reaction. The colonel clears his throat as someone else comes through the door, and motions the newcomer in hurriedly. “Name…name and rank, soldier.”

What is going _on?_ “Major Ted Blanco of the Atlas Corporation Crimson Lance, D Company, 3rd Starborne Brigade. Sir.”

Silence falls in the room and Ted looks around at the dumbfounded looks on everyone’s faces. The thin blond man ushered in by the colonel finally speaks. “I would greatly appreciate it if someone,” the man says in crisp and exacting tones, “were to explain what the _fuck_ is happening here.”

There follows another flurry of activity as the entire group practically trips over themselves to address the man, and Ted takes the opportunity to start patting himself down in search of injuries. He doesn’t remember what had happened to bring him to this point, and only a vague idea of what he’d been doing – a scouting mission, or something. An…argument? Ted rubs at his temples and reaches a hand back to feel at the lump near his spine, where the implant is. Had he been out on assignment as Ares?

Ted focuses on the faces of the people crowding the infirmary – for that’s obviously where he is, even if he doesn’t recognize the location of this particular one – wondering why there isn’t a single member of the command here that he actually _knows_. His gaze lingers on the blond man and he feels as though he _knows_ him somehow, even though he’s never seen the skinny bastard before. Perhaps he’s one of the CEO’s hangers-on…or even the CEO, himself. Ted’s never seen what the Atlas CEO looks like and given the way everyone is fawning over this blond bundle of twigs, it’s definitely a possibility.

He’s questioned for another hour, as if he’s the insane one for knowing his own rank and rotation, before Twig kicks everyone else out and stares at Ted. “You really do not remember.”

“Mister, I got no idea what the hell’s goin’ on.”

The man hides his eyes with a hand, takes several deep breaths, and looks at Ted once more. “Do you know who I am?” He looks pained when Ted is forced to admit that no, he doesn’t. “Let me tell you a story…”

“Is the story gonna be true, at all?”

The man ducks his head with a slight smile, and Ted sees that the pale blond hair is combed into twin points like he has horns or something. Weird. “Most of it, but if you’ll do me the favor of listening without interruption I shall be able to prove what I say.”

“The _true_ parts.”

“Yes,” his new acquaintance says, gazing at him. “The first ‘true’ part is that I was once president of the Hyperion Corporation and your job was to kill me. While I am sure that you are about to protest that you are _not_ , in fact, quite that bad at your assassin duties” he pauses to wait for Ted to comment “the fact is that you get bored now and again, and felt like playing with your food.” Jeffrey Blake fully introduces himself and spins a far-fetched tale about Pandora, his brothers, and an albino Siren.

It’s entertaining enough to be something on one of the ECHO channels, but there’s no way any of it’s true. Especially the part about Ted being an admiral. Blake also declines to say why _he_ is there when he’s supposed to be six under…but there’s something about him. Ted’s just made up his mind to get out of there – it’s just an infirmary, after all, and in no way designed to hold someone with his training – when Blake slants a _look_ at him. “You are free to go whenever you wish, but I thought you might like to see the proof I have to offer _before_ you go leaping into the rafters.”

“I wouldn’t go through-” Ted stops arguing when he realizes he’d walked right into that one. “Fine, then, what d’you have.”

Blake smiles and the expression should make him look more cadaverous than he already does, but it makes him look…good? Where did _that_ come from, Ted wonders. “I do not doubt that you will immediately attempt to say that what I am about to show you has been altered, but I must ask you to trust me that it has not.” He motions Ted over to an ECHO terminal that seems to be several versions ahead of the ones he’s used to – this is definitely corporate territory. “Each New-U station is outfitted with cameras in the case of a botched reconstruction. Your adjutant found you in the Lectra HQ, and the team you’d assembled was forced to carry you to the station when the digistruct function declined to accept your genetic code.” He reaches across to cue up the footage, and then sits back to let Ted watch it.

Ted finds himself leaning forward slightly as he studies the images in front of him; Blake deliberately turns away from it. It’s clearly a Crimson Lance outpost, though nowhere he’s ever been before, and he watches four men comes into frame struggling with the weight of a dead body. They drop the man, and Ted’s eyes widen; the dead admiral might have white hair and facial scarring but Ted is looking at _himself_. “Nuh-uh. No fuckin’ way that’s _me_.” He lifts his hands to his face just to make sure but no, the skin is still smooth and Ted’s already caught his reflection in the mirrored back of a medical cabinet - there’s _definitely_ no white hair.

Turning his attention back to the screen, Ted sits through whatever frantic modifications are being made to the New-U and he watches ‘his’ body being absorbed back into the system to finally be reconstructed into…no.

_No._

There’s no possible _way_ that it’s him.

“You’ve given us all quite a shock,” Blake says quietly, “And I do not blame you for being skeptical.”

Ted refuses to believe what his eyes have just seen. “I need…a minute.” What he _really_ needs is to find someone he actually knows, but it’s better to let the company man believe that pacing and soul-searching are all that’s about to happen. “Uh. Are those _pitchforks_ on your suit?”

He’s given another smile that does strange things to his insides. “Why, yes. Yes, they are.” Blake excuses himself to give Ted the requested ‘minute’ and Ted wastes no time in disappearing up into the rafters he’d sworn not to use.

Most of the Lance buildings he’s used to have maintenance catwalks high up, and this is no different. Ted crosses through the rooms effortlessly, keeping a wary eye on the foot traffic below. He pauses when he sees Blake pacing back and forth across the main room, and pulls back into the shadows as the other man glances up towards him as if he knows that Ted is there watching him. 

He moves on, slipping out one of the primary ventilation shafts, and climbs down to the nearest horizontal strut before stopping to look around. Ted stares in amazement at the sight that meets his eyes – he’s lived on Promethea for ten years so far, but it never looked like _this_. Buildings everywhere, and all brightly lit…where _is_ he? Climbing up higher to get a better vantage point, Ted crouches atop his perch and looks around more slowly this time while his surroundings begin to take a shape that he’s actually able to recognize. There’s a building that reminds him of Knoxx Station, and over _there_ can only be the Crimson Complex where new recruits are sworn in. Ted rubs his hands over his face, wondering if he’ll still see the Armory if he looks out to the north…and what it will mean if he does.

Ted looks and though the once-towering Armory is now dwarfed by the other neon-limned buildings surrounding it, it’s unmistakable.

Things had seemed much simpler when he was sure that this was just a trick.

He finally decides to reacquaint himself with the new Meridian by walking its streets, but first Ted needs a disguise. He climbs down carefully and slips into the crowd, angling towards the nearest barracks. Ted doesn’t draw too much attention, dressed as he is in a regulation jumpsuit, but he’s conscious of a few people staring at him while they try to figure out why he looks familiar.

Ted’s able to steal a chest piece and a pair of greaves, and he swipes a cowl for good measure as he ducks out of the building. Moving back into the steady stream of people – soldiers and civilians alike, to his surprise – he can tell that some of them are finally starting to search for him and Ted ducks down an alley to put on the armor. 

He needs to find someone he knows but since he’d forgotten to ask Jeffrey Blake exactly how old he’s supposed to be now, that’s going to be a problem. Too many fellow officers will have died or gotten shipped off to God-knows-where…so maybe what he needs to do is to find a secure terminal which will take his voice print. Once he gets access to the vital records database, a simple search should turn up the information he needs. 

Blending in with a group of privates, Ted listens to the latest gossip – some of it is about him, but too much of it has to do with a shipping blockade that the Dahl corporation is apparently trying to enact just outside the system. That isn’t something he’s too worried about, since Dahl traditionally employs a gang of pansy lightweights and Ted doesn’t think that too much has changed in…however many years it’s been. He drifts towards two sergeants, learning way too much about a venereal disease currently running amok in Barracks #37, and follows one of them to their duty station. There, his voice print gains him the information he needs, and Ted ducks out quickly before he’s discovered by whoever Blake has sent out after him. 

Ted finds one of the men he’s looking for at the far end of the Meridian Complex. Isamu Saybrook hadn’t been a close friend by any means, but they’d served together on a tour out by Isolus. Saybrook had been a lowly PFC subject to the whims of his superiors when Ted had requested the young man’s temporary reassignment, confounding Saybrook by declining to exercise his full ‘authority.’ He’s surprised to find that Saybrook has only risen to the rank of major and is now, apparently, a hair stylist.

Saybrook won’t thank him for the memories, but that’s the least of Ted’s worries right now – he’s not exactly sure what the greatest of them are, either, but this is the first step towards finding that out. Ted orders the three remaining soldiers out of the waiting area and leans through the doorway after removing the cowl. “Almost done?”

The other man grunts in annoyance. “Wait ‘til I call you!” Saybrook throw him an irritated glance, which becomes a double take. The hapless rating whose head he’s trimming nearly loses an ear when the clippers veer wildly. “ _Shit!_ ”

“What the fu- I mean, uh, is everything okay, Major?”

Saybrook stares at Ted with eyes as large as dinner plates. “What? Yes, I…I just…need you to come back tomorrow. My clippers are, uh, not working like they should. I’ll put a note in your file to excuse you.”

The young Specialist tries not to glare into the mirror as he sees the mess Saybrook’s made of his hair. “I’ll come back, then, sir.” He brushes past Ted, looking upset.

“Remind me to stay the hell away from that chair,” Ted comments. “I take it you recognize me.”

“Yes, Admiral, I definitely do. How did…?”

Ted makes him lock the door before offering the only explanation he has available. It takes less than a minute to go over everything he knows. “…so now I’m left here not knowin’ what the fuck is goin’ on and who is who. We won’t even go into what it is I’m s’posed to be doin’, ‘cause I don’t know that either.”

Saybrook looks like he’s about to be sick. “Why did you come to _me?_ ”

“Isolus.”

“Isolus? But that was…oh. Right.” The other man rubs his palms over his face. “Okay, so: you are technically the leader of the entire Atlas force which is a _lot_ bankrupt right now because the Hyperion CEO tried to run us into the ground. Well, just one of them – Blake did what he could.”

Ted frowns; something about Saybrook’s response is raising red flags. “The hell’s goin’ on with you?”

“I’m not exactly your favorite person, sir.”

“Why’s that, exactly?”

Saybrook licks his lips nervously. “I was Commandant Steele’s aide before she sent me to you, and…well, sir, I didn’t think much of your choices when we were on Pandora. I upheld the Command’s orders without your knowledge or permission, and you were not pleased about that. To put it mildly.”

There’s one hell of a story here, but he’ll worry about that later. “How’d I get to be an admiral?”

“You killed everyone else.” Saybrook’s voice lowers. “There’s…surveillance video if you really want to watch. Mister Blake took one look at it and had it scrubbed from the servers, but I’m sure there’s another copy somewhere.”

“Blake again – what’s he got to do with it? Is he the CEO or somethin’?”

Saybrook suddenly looks like he’s about to start laughing. “You don’t remember _anything_ about Mister Blake?”

Ted frowns. “Should I?”

“It’s not my place to have an opinion on Mister Blake; you’ve already made that _very_ clear.”

Ted’s abruptly tired of all the cryptic bullshit, and pushes himself to his feet. “As you were, Major.” He’ll piece all of this together by himself. “Get that kid back in here; you made him look like shit.” He slips out and uses the damned teleporter this time to get him up on the roof of the armory.

There he sits and thinks about what he’s learned so far… and he mainly thinks about slaughtering his way up the food chain. There’s hardly been a day that Ted hadn’t daydreamed of doing just that and now, apparently, he’s made his dreams reality. He’s not quite sure what to think about it, except that he remembers every indignity he’s been forced to suffer just because they _could_ force him into it. A lot of people had needed killing. It seems so strange that he’d claimed the garrison for himself. Everyone who ever joined up joked about it – that’s nothing new. But _he_ had actually gone ahead and _done_ it.

“Splendid view from up here, isn’t it?”

Ted turns slightly to look at Jeffrey Blake as the other man takes a seat next to him. “How’d you get up here?”

“It is the tallest landmark you are still familiar with,” Blake says in response to the question that Ted _really_ means to ask. “Saybrook told me that you stopped by for a visit. Would you like to view the recording?”

“Would you?”

“If you are asking if I would like to watch it with you, I will do so if you wish,” Blake says. “If you are asking if I would watch if I were you… I would be hesitant, but I would want to _know_.”

Ted watches Blake from the corner of his eye. “Somethin’ tells me I should remember you. Apparently I was s’posed to kill you – so why didn’t I?”

Blake smiles without looking over at him. “You had your reasons; chief among them was that you were having far too much fun to fulfill the terms of the contract.”

“Were you…? I mean, are _we…?_ ” Ted flounders his way through asking if they’re together, not sure why he feels so apprehensive about the answer. Does he even want the answer to be yes? Blake is as far from Ted’s type as it gets, but there’s something about him… “Uh. Why’re you here on Promethea.”

The other man sighs and finally turns to face him. “If you are not ready for the answer to a question, I suggest that you not ask it.”

“I’m gettin’ real sick of all these bullshit answers-” Blake leans over and kisses him, effectively silencing Ted’s protests.

Blake pulls back. “I am here because the man I love needed me desperately, and I needed him just as much.”

Ted can still feel the press of Blake’s lips on his. “That’s…me?”

“I see that the skill of deductive reasoning developed _after_ you reached your forties.” It surprises a laugh from Ted, and Blake looks away from him. “I do not want you to think that I expect anything from you that isn’t freely given, so please do not pretend that you feel anything when you do not.”


	4. A love song for no one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake is having a hard time accepting what might very well be the ‘new normal’

Blake had thought himself heartbroken after learning of Ted’s death and while that is certainly still true, _this_ is nearly as bad. Nothing has prepared him for any scenario in which Ted simply doesn’t _know_ him and even the dazed look on Ted’s face after Blake’s impulsive, ill-advised kiss hasn’t helped Blake’s state of mind. “How could I feel anything? I don’t even know you,” Ted says, unwittingly twisting the knife.

“No,” Blake says. “You certainly do not.” He forces himself to look into the beloved face of the man who was, until only recently, his partner in all things. Ted had never shared any photos of himself with Blake that were more than five years prior to their involvement, so Blake had never been blindsided by Ted’s youthful beauty before now. _Beauty_ is definitely the right term for Ted’s looks, too. There’s little doubt in Blake’s mind as to why his lover had been so… _popular_ amongst the higher ups in the Crimson Lance, and it causes a pang in his chest that Ted had been mistreated so. He’d known that Ted had been, of course, but the knowledge seems different now that he can _see_ why Ted was targeted. “We must, however, come to terms with the present situation so that we can decide where to go from here.”

“Do we, uh, live together?” Ted asks cautiously.

“We did, yes. I will, of course, find different accommodations.”

Ted leans forward slightly, and Blake has to force himself to refrain from closing the distance between them with a caress. His fingers itch with the need to trace the serial number at Ted’s temples, so he curls his fingers into a fist. Ted looks at him as if he’s fully aware of Blake’s inner turmoil. “Don’t let me be the reason you leave. You don’t gotta go anywhere.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Blake says quietly. “If I might make a suggestion…” he volunteers a temporary solution that’s based on his own feelings of hopelessness more rather than an actual plan: with the entire Crimson Lance so invested in their admiral’s personal relationships, it would be for the best that they remain in the same quarters for the time being. “Heaven knows that our…ah, _the_ rooms are spacious enough to share. I will simply move my things into one of the chambers and you are free to occupy any others.”

“ _Any_ others? How big of a space is it?” Ted asks with a frown.

Blake extends an arm towards the huge glowing buildings that comprise the Atlas Campus, and points. “Do you see the tower on the left?”

“Yeah…?”

“The entire top floor is ours. Was ours.” Having to correct himself about something he’d thought was long past doubt is yet another slap in the face. No, that’s too…benign. It’s more like a paper cut that deepens each time Blake’s forced to say something, and Blake already feels as if he’s bleeding to death. “Yours.”

Ted just gazes at him thoughtfully. “Mind if we go take a look?”

Blake averts his eyes, pretends he needs to brush off his trousers. “Not at all.”

Ted follows him back down to street level and Blake lifts his chin, determined to ignore all the heads turning in their direction as they walk. “Lotta folks around,” Ted observes. “When I first got here, it was all gas vents and swamp with a few buildings mixed in.”

“From what I understand, the majority of the construction came about within the last few years.” Blake pauses to nod at the duty officer as they enter the Atlas Campus, and Ted’s eyes narrow slightly at the salutes Blake receives from the soldiers currently present. “It was a way to keep the enlisted Lance from staging a full-scale coup, though very few of it was for the benefit of the soldiers. The officers decided that they would enrich themselves through the hard work of their so-called _underlings_ , thinking that the rank and file would be too busy building the officers new dwellings to riot.” Blake explains that the accommodations had been renovated further once Ted himself had removed the corrupt group of officers from power. “The few remaining service vendors were enticed to enlarge their offerings and invite in offworld associates – and that, in turn, prompted their rivals to claim territory on Promethea as well. The civilian population is growing quickly as well, thanks to the relaxation of certain rules concerning fraternization.”

They pass through the Courtyard of Innovation, and Blake watches Ted from the corner of his eye as he gestures to the stairs leading up to the Campus perimeter wall. “It really is remarkable what you’ve managed to achieve here.”

“You’re makin’ it sound like I’m some kinda saint,” Ted says with a frown.

Blake responds automatically. “No, you are definitely no saint.” This makes Ted’s frown deepen and despite his lover’s newly rediscovered youth, the expression is one that Blake has seen many times over. “No one who’s known you for more than ten minutes would describe you as a saint, but they certainly would classify you as a pain in the ass.”

Ted laughs after pausing as if to make sure that he really should. “I guess some things never change.”

They walk inside to the Lobby of Self-Actualization (Ted has to stop and read the plaque, shaking his head over the name) and Blake remembers his own first impression of the long passageway as they walk past the benches lining the middle. The hall widens out into two floors of shops and Lance offices on either side, where they’re both greeted with curious glances and rigidly precise salutes. “The lift is just ahead before we’ll reach the courtyard on the other end,” Blake says, wondering if he should try to distract Ted by insisting upon going out there.

“Not even half of this was here last time I saw it…” Ted stops to look up at the stairs leading up to the secondary level, where several soldiers are laughing at something on one of their ECHO devices. “And _that_ sure as hell never happened, either.”

He follows Blake to the circular lift platform, watching closely as Blake demonstrates how to operate the thing. “It’s woefully uncomplicated, as it makes only one stop.” He explains that it was built for travel to the CEO’s office and living quarters, which is interesting since Ted’s gathered enough intelligence on his wandering through Meridian to know that the current Atlas CEO has never even visited the planet. They step off of the lift and Blake takes him down an aquarium-lined hallway, stopping to wait patiently when Ted pauses to look at the creatures inside the tanks. “Over here is our… _your_ quarters,” Blake gestures towards an unmarked door that could be the entrance to a broom closet, for all Ted knows. “Here we are.”

Ted moves past to open the door because Blake can’t force himself to do it…and then Ted stops to stare as he sees what’s just past the threshold. “What the - !”

“You designed it yourself,” Blake says quietly. “With some help, no doubt, but I believe that you did a wonderful job.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a job as an interior decorator just waitin’ for me now I got Atlas under my heel,” Ted jokes, still staring in disbelief. “It’s the fanciest place I’ve ever seen since…well, _ever_. This is really ours?”

“Yours,” Blake corrects, which is surely starting to irritate Ted. “Yes.”

“Wow.” Ted walks inside and looks around slowly, plainly wondering how much all of this cost.  
“You must got some serious skills if I put this together just for you.”

“I beg your pardon,” Blake snaps, reining himself in once he realizes that Ted’s just poking fun. Some things really _do_ never change, apparently. “You originally ‘put it together’ for the CEO.”

“What’s the story on that?” Ted asks, walking into the dining area and rapping his knuckles on the table before going to look around the kitchen. The kitchen, at least, was clearly made for _him_. “Now, I _do_ like it in here...”

Blake clears his throat. “The current CEO has yet to take possession of the Promethean garrison due to several reasons…one of which is that his actions nearly brought about my death on two separate occasions. I suspect he knows that setting foot on the planet is the last thing he will ever do. Another reason is that he has no money for transport here.”

“What the hell? What’s happened to Atlas if the man who owns it is too poor to even _travel?_ ” Ted shakes his head in disgust and begins opening cabinets at random to look through them. Blake watches and waits patiently until Ted’s finished and is ready to look at the other areas of the suite. “Head’s in…here?” He guesses, opening a door which turns out to be just a closet. A really _big_ closet.

“The facilities are on the left,” Blake instructs. “I shall wait here for you.”

Ted disappears through the door, leaving it open just enough so that Blake can hear the sound of Ted’s boots on the tile echoing throughout the cavernous space. Blake also hears Ted’s low whistle of amazement and he has to wonder just what Ted is thinking of him now – without the context for the renovations that his memory could have provided, Blake can only imagine what this must look like. Ted can’t know that this palatial living area with all its amenities had been commissioned as an architectural love letter to a man presumed dead.

Blake paces back and forth, forcing his thoughts away from their downward spiral by attempting to concentrate on his plans going forward…and _that_ doesn’t work because it’s simply another unpleasant reminder that the man he loves no longer knows him. 

No longer _loves_ him.


	5. Guilty pleasures, minus the guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted explores his new quarters, and the side of himself that emerges when he views some rather violent security footage. [ Rating has increased ]

Ted doesn’t bother clarifying that he doesn’t need to actually _use_ anything in there, he just wants to look. He closes the door behind himself and walks through, simultaneously disgusted and impressed by how lavish the bathroom is – he’d never known that _anyone_ could have a bathroom like this. The toilet area’s standard enough with a privacy screen, but there are two separate areas for a shower _and_ bath. ‘Pool’ might be closer to the mark, Ted thinks, walking over to stare at it. He leans down to touch the side of it and is surprised all over again, because the whole damned floor is _heated_. How soft has he _gotten_ in his old age?

He’s definitely using the thing before he goes to sack out, though.

Walking over to look at the shower area – he’ll be damned if it doesn’t look just like a natural waterfall – Ted’s eyes fall on a familiar-looking tube that’s been tossed carelessly into a basket along with a washcloth. He’s not too sure he’ll get a chance to use _that_ later.

Blake is pacing the living area when Ted comes back out. “Would you like to see your bedroom, then?”

“Might be better if you stayed here,” Ted answers. “Bad memories an’ all that.”

“There are indeed memories, but none of them are truly objectionable,” Blake says quietly. “Very well. I will remain here.”

Ted shrugs because it’s all the same to him, really, and walks into the bedroom. Thick carpeting swallows his boots and he looks at the bed in disbelief because it’s big enough for at least five people. What the hell did they _do_ in here, host orgies? He pokes his head into the closet, noting the three crimson uniforms next to a matching black one…and the traditional white Admiral’s tunic. If he actually wears _that_ one, he’d probably get lost in a snowdrift in less than ten seconds thanks to the white hair.

The rest of the closet is full of different suits and shoes that are obviously for Blake. Ted’s never before met anyone who has their own dresser just for socks – and they aren’t even _nice_ ones, at that. He frowns at the closest pair’s hideous pattern of orange and blue chevrons, wondering if Blake got them from a Maliwan vendor. Why would anyone _wear_ something like that?

He sighs and closes the closet door, returning to look at the bed that’s the same size as a fucking landing pad. A quick glance shows that Blake hasn’t decided to come looking for him, so Ted takes the opportunity to sit down…which turns into an opportunity to lie down…which makes him realize why it’s there in the first place. It’s still way too big, but it’s insanely comfortable. He wouldn’t mind sleeping on it, after all.

Rolling out of the bed regretfully, Ted walks over to the window that dominates one side of the room and looks out over Meridian. It’s going to take a little time to get used to the fact that the city’s actually been built up into something the Lance can be proud of, and he admires the view for a while before reluctantly turning away. Blake is waiting for him so he’d probably better get out there and see if the guy has any idea of what Ted’s supposed to be doing right now.

Ted mistakenly exits into the side door to the bathroom, so he retraces his steps and finds his way out to the living area where Blake is sitting and staring blankly at the door that Ted’s supposed to be coming from.

“Place’s a goddamned maze, I got lost in the head,” he announces, and watches Blake’s shift of expression. 

“I suppose you could always ping Search and Rescue,” Blake says in that sonorous voice that does strange things to Ted’s stomach. He refuses to start thinking of what Blake’s voice might sound like while they’re in bed together – the missing part of himself obviously knows quite well what it sounds like, but now isn’t the time to imagine something like that. 

“There’s an idea. Listen, uh. Let’s not pretend I got any idea what the fuck I’m doin’…so do _you_ know?”

Blake smiles faintly. “You will have to be more specific.”

Ted’s not sure if that’s some sort of sly dig at him for something he no longer remembers, or if Blake really _can’t_ narrow it down. He pauses to take another look at his surroundings. There’s no way he would have ever done it just for himself, which means that he must have done it for Jeffrey Blake. Maybe the reason why Blake’s so upset is because he’ll lose all of this, and whatever extra he gets from being Dead Ted’s main squeeze.

He glances back at Blake and knows it’s not true, however, and a part of him feels like a piece of shit just for thinking it. A bigger part of him can’t help teasing the skinny old bastard a little bit, though. “Okay, then. The other corporations; what’re they up to? D’you really know, or are you just the arm candy?”

Blake’s lips thin, which is really something else because he barely has any to begin with. “I _beg_ your pardon,” he says in a way that actually means that Ted can fuck right off. Ted soon learns that he’s had the Lance conducting raids on Dahl arms shipments and Dahl has responded by attempting to enact a blockade. They’re in negotiations with Mrs. Tediore, of all people, to gain exclusive rights to protect _Tediore’s_ shipments even though Atlas has hit a few of their convoys…disguised in Dahl troop armor. Oh, and Maliwan has started to infiltrate their software and is probably behind the attempt on Ted’s life.

“Probably? You mean…you don’t know?”

“Forgive me if none of us actually went to accost the Katagawa family to demand the final proof that they’ve been periodically infiltrating our ECHOnetwork and interfering with the New-U systems,” Blake says sharply. “But by all means, _do_ tell me how we were meant to deliver you on a golden platter to them by means of an actual confrontation because I would love to hear it.”

The fancy twig has a point. He’s got an attitude, too, and Ted can definitely see part of what would have attracted Dead Ted to him. “Woulda been a silver platter, not a gold one,” he says just to watch Blake’s mouth twitch with irritation. Ted makes up his mind to watch the recording which had been so terrible that Blake permanently removed it from circulation. He probably should refer to the guy as ‘Jeffrey’ since they’re supposed to be on a first-name basis. “Listen; I figure I should see that thing. D’you have it here?” 

Blake inclines his head in acknowledgment, not even needing Ted to clarify what ‘thing’ he means. “I will send it to your personal ECHO-”

“What about that one, there?” Ted asks, gesturing towards the huge screen on the wall. It’s bigger than the ones he’s used to seeing behind the generals at a briefing – how the hell could he have afforded it?

“Very well.”

Blake disappears into the next room and Ted walks up to look closely at the ECHO screen’s markings - this, at least, is one thing that tells him that he’s practically stepped out of a time machine. This model is definitely more advanced than any he’s ever seen, and Ted stares at the production date engraved into the side until the screen lights up with an incoming message. He taps the Receive button and steps back to watch the security footage, folding his arms across his chest.

Ted schools his face to not betray any of what he’s feeling as he sees what has cemented his hold over Promethea. On the screen, his older self flashes into existence through the red lights of the personal teleportation implant and stalks his first victim…Ted can’t see who it is from this vantage point since the man has his back to the security cameras, but his head is separated from his shoulders with the flick of a plasma sword. The other swings in an arc to dismember another officer who is reaching for his sidearm, then Ted watches himself launch towards the huddled officers on the far side of the conference room.

The officers scatter, and Ted realizes that he’s breathing faster upon recognizing several of them – there’s Prenda, Hearst, Danville, Plano…each of them deserve what’s about to happen. They deserve _worse_. 

The generals are cut down and it’s like he can _feel_ their blood spraying across his face, viscous and hot. Ted’s pulse thunders in his ears as he savors the secondhand terror displayed for him. “ _It’s just the way things are. Everyone does it_ ,” he hears echoing in his head as, on the screen, Ted watches himself approach one of the last cowering officers. Somehow, Ted knows that his older self will bring the swords up in a glowing red X before slashing them downwards.

“Not anymore,” he says, voice syncing with his mouth’s silent movements onscreen. The blades slice down, and the officer is left in quartered segments on the blood smeared floor.

The video ends and he’s conscious of Blake watching him from the doorway leading to the kitchen unit. “You remember it,” the other man says softly.

“I remember that they deserved it,” Ted replies with a shrug to cover for the way adrenaline is surging through him, prodding him to action. He feels suddenly restless; he wants to run. To work off the energy somehow. But then, it’s not really _somehow_. His eyes meet Blake’s and he knows exactly what he wants.

Whether or not to actually take it, though…that’s the real question. But they’ve obviously done this before, haven’t they? Ted feels a sudden pressure at the base of his skull and hears another whispering echo. “ _My beautiful boy_.” He knows who’s said it, yet Blake’s lips haven’t moved at all.

Ted gazes across the room at Blake, who looks back at him as if there’s absolutely nothing wrong with the fact that Ted has just watched himself slaughter a roomful of officers and now has an erection because of it. All Ted has to do is to walk over there; he knows it, and Blake is waiting for him to do it.

He pivots and walks into the bedroom instead, kicking the door shut behind himself and yanking at the opening of his jumpsuit. Part of him hopes that Blake will follow him, but his body is clamoring for a release _now_. Ted pulls his dick out, spits in his palm, and gets to work.

The memory of what he’s just watched rises up inside him, stiffening his cock even further. He knows how fucked up it is, but _god_ does it turn him on. It’s too good and not enough at the same time, remembering their panicked begging as he’d murdered them – somehow expecting him to have mercy when he’d been shown none, all those times before. Ted’s hand moves faster as he closes his eyes because he’s almost there, but not _quite_. He needs something else, something like the man in the next room coming up behind him and taking him in hand, but that’s not happening. Ted opens his eyes and looks at the bed, wondering if…yes, _there_.

He strides forward and puts a knee up on the mattress, leaning in to grab a folded piece of clothing from beneath one of the pillows. Ted presses it to his face and inhales a scent that has him wrapping his hand around his cock, pumping it until he comes on the expensive-looking black sheets. He shoves his other hand down on the bed for balance and leans down to thrust into the yielding surface of Blake’s pillow to prolong the sensations still spiking through his body. Ted lets out a shuddering breath and closes his eyes, wondering how he’s going to explain to Blake that he’s just humped his pillow.

Something tells him that they’re rich enough to afford a new one.

Ted grinds into the pillow and lifts up the pajamas he’d just been huffing; even those have tiny pitchforks on them in lieu of pinstripes. Glancing towards the door, Ted gives them one last sniff before wiping his softening cock on Blake’s pillowcase and stepping back to rearrange his clothing. The pajamas are folded back up neatly, his come wiped up with a handful of tissues, and the pillow is switched for his own because he’s pretty sure he’ll want to fuck it again later.

Blake is standing in front of one of the windows, staring down into the Atlas Compound, when Ted walks back out to find him. “There’s another shipment raid scheduled, if you’d like to attend. Reconnaissance will also be conducted on the Dahl blockade,” the other man says. 

“What d’you do, all day?” Ted asks. 

“I have little else to do but sit about and spend your money,” Blake tells him. “That should be obvious.”


	6. Gone Fishing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake tries to lure a murderer out from hiding, and accidentally starts the Promethean Volleyball League.

They settle into a routine of sorts over the next few days – Blake sleeps in the guest room and tries not to let himself fantasize too much about his own lover. He also attempts to rein in the impulse to try for anything more than the single fleeting kiss atop the armory, especially when he’s painfully aware of how Ted relaxes before bed; it would be wrong to push. Yet it’s colossally unfair how he parades himself before Blake, looking so tempting and sinfully _young_.

Blake has no business desiring the physical affections of anyone more than five years his junior and part of him is disgusted at himself even though it’s still Ted. _His_ Ted, the same man Blake’s fucked to the point of unconsciousness – the same man who’d fucked _Blake_ countless times and in countless ways. Ted’s reaction to viewing the tape of his wholesale slaughter had been unexpected, to say the least. There had been a moment where Blake was _sure_ that Ted would come to him, and he would have welcomed it…but that moment had passed. 

Although initially hesitant, and rightfully so, Ted is starting take to his role as admiral. The garrison’s troops are as adoringly devoted as ever, especially since _this_ version of their leader is free of Ted’s previous unwillingness to mingle amongst the soldiers. Morale, Blake is told, has never been at a higher point. He’s glad this mess is working out for _someone_.

Ted has disappeared for an impromptu training exercise, leaving them all on edge and braced for the next New-U-related catastrophe. His adjutant, however, has apparently elected to stay behind. Blake wonders if Sergeant Leith is planning on requesting reassignment; the man had seemed traumatized enough over finding his commander’s temporarily dead body. 

Blake looks up from his ECHOpad as Master Sergeant DeWitt comes through the door, pausing to rap his knuckles on the wall in greeting. “Good morning, Mister Blake. Doing okay, today?”

“Hmm,” Blake replies. “Elijah, what exactly was in Leith’s statement?”

The other man settles into position behind him. “Sergeant Leith? Well, sir, he mentioned being the first on the scene…we haven’t really had a chance for a proper follow-up since he’s still with Iron – I mean, with Admiral Ares.”

“Is that normal?”

“With the Admiral around there _is_ no ‘normal,’ but I see what you mean. He was pretty shaken by the whole thing,” DeWitt says thoughtfully. “Colonel Ballard’s men had to sedate him and by the time we got there, he’d probably been through three different interviews. Do you think he remembers anything new?”

Blake returns his gaze to the screen, where he’s been perusing Andrew Leith’s personnel file. “At the very least, he shouldn’t have been returned to active duty after an…event…such as that. Is there no other candidate available to micromanage Ted’s day for the time being? You and I both know that he refuses to adhere to any part of the schedules drawn up for him; at this point, we could simply hire a civilian to trail after him and be ignored.”

“And if he’s not on duty, he might have more time to think about what happened in Lectra City.”

“Yes,” Blake agrees. “There is a strong likelihood that he might be able to tell us more about the assassination attempt…more than he even realizes.”

DeWitt offers to supplant Leith with one of his own, but Blake has an alternate suggestion – Holden. She’d wanted an ‘in’ with Ted, after all, so why not give her one? “Yes, sir. She’ll love you forever for it.”

“My affections are otherwise engaged, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Blake wonders how long Holden will stay thankful once the realities of being Ted’s interim adjutant sink in. “Sergeant, I wonder if I might be allowed to read the initial statement.”

“Beg pardon, Mister Blake, but you don’t need anyone’s permission for _that_.”

“I wouldn’t want to assume.”

DeWitt assures Blake that he’s doing no such thing. “As far as we’re concerned, sir, you’re as good as married. Anyone here on Promethea would say the same – so if you need anything, all you have to do is ask and it’s yours.”

Marriage. Blake had planned on gently broaching the subject with Ted when the time was right, but now he’s not sure that will ever happen…especially now. Things look quite bleak on the relationship front; Ted seems to be actively avoiding him, and it might be for the best. He’s already begun researching possible sites to which he can relocate Corazza Industries so that he’s not holding Ted back. There’s still a chance that Ted will regain himself, but it’s been more than a week since Ted has remembered anything new…Blake’s hope is starting to fade despite his best efforts to remain positive.

He busies himself with combing through the report Leith had given, along with the reports of the men who had accompanied them as well as the accounts of the first responders. The officer at the Lectra City command outpost has yet to regain consciousness; she’s currently under guard in the main infirmary, and Blake wonders if she’d seen her assailant. He’s been too preoccupied to spare her much thought before now, but she has his full attention now. “Master Sergeant,” Blake says slowly, “I might have a job for Holden before Ted returns.”

“What d’you have in mind?” DeWitt asks, following Blake’s gaze towards the infirmary’s security feed curiously.

“We are going fishing.”

It takes several hours to set the plan into motion; during shift change PFC Brandt will bring Holden, to all intents and purposes suffering a traumatic injury, in on a stretcher. The ‘new’ guards will allow Brandt to access the room long enough to change patients – the actual patient will then be transferred to a secure location, allowing them to use Holden as bait.

The corporal is only too happy to help out, and Blake suspects that she might have flown at him for an embrace if they’d been alone when he informed her of her new role. It’s fortunate that she shares the same coloration as the woman she’s being sent to temporarily supplant, and she suggests a few cosmetic changes that can be made such as a ‘bloodstained’ blanket as well as easily removable bandages. 

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Blake actually finds himself having _fun_. Ted would enjoy being a part of it, he thinks wistfully. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”

Brandt, Holden, and DeWitt all refuse to allow him to be present – even in anonymity – so Blake is relegated to one of the security offices where he watches the monitors with a handful of others. Colonel Ballard catches wind of their scheme and slips into the office. “We’ll need to cross-reference the soldiers present today with the ones who were in Lectra City,” Blake informs him. “There’s no guarantee of a match, however, as the assassin could very well be someone whose name was not recorded as part of the expedition.”

“That’s a good idea, sir… Major, I’ll need you to go ahead and strike off the names of the men and women currently accompanying Admiral Ares. If no one ‘bites’, we can set up a similar test for them once they return,” Ballard says to one of the men in front of an ECHO console.

“Right away, Colonel.”

Ballard leans back over towards Blake to explain. “The internal investigation we’ve been doing hasn’t turned up anything. A few of us have been considering narcotic interrogation as a possible option, though the Admiral doesn’t approve of it.”

“It does seem drastic, as well as highly invasive,” Blake murmurs. “Still. If you need actual _authorization_ …” He doesn’t like it any more than Ted does, but he’ll allow it if it means finding Ted’s would-be murderer. They should have been _caught_ by now.

“Thank you, Mister Blake. I’ll come to you if necessary,” Ballard replies just as softly. “Shift change is coming up, sir,” he says more loudly. 

Blake leans closer to the screen, and reaches up to toggle the earpiece. “Brandt.”

“ _On my way, sir,_ ” the private says. 

They watch the previous shift’s guards file out to be replaced by DeWitt and his handpicked soldiers, who immediately have to deal with Brandt coming in from left field with Holden on the gurney. DeWitt kicks up a fuss while Brandt bellows his indignation with being barred from emergency services. “ _This soldier will die if you don’t let us pass right the fuck now _!”__

__“Cameras in Observation 14,” Ballard instructs, and the view changes to show the comatose form of the duty officer._ _

__As soon as the doors close behind them, Holden whisks off the blanket and is unwrapping the ‘bloody’ bandage from her head while Brandt unhooks the monitoring devices and unlocks the wheels of the bed he’ll be removing. “ _Okay, here we go – thirty seconds left,_ ” Brandt says, disguising the real patient with the blanket and head bandages while Holden hops back onto the gurney and covers herself up. _ _

__Brandt wheels his charge back out the doors with an exclamation of disgust for the ‘mix-up’ and is away before anyone has a chance to see through the subterfuge. Blake watches Brandt’s progress through the security monitors while Ballard keeps his eyes on Holden’s room. “Okay, sir, they’re clear…let’s get our handpicked guard detail to check on her before they share the good news.”_ _

__Blake hopes that they won’t have _too_ long to wait, or the poor woman will have to stay there in the bed pretending to be the duty officer until someone finally comes in there and tries to murder her. He catches the eye the major responsible for cross-referencing the names of those who’d been in attendance during Ted’s death with those who are currently here in Meridian, and the man comes over to hand him an ECHOpad. “Only four of the twenty-nine are off with the Admiral, sir. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to count the members of the strike team or not, but I drew up different charts for you just in case,” the other man murmurs. “The work assignments for the other twenty-five are listed there as well.”_ _

__“How many are on assignment at the Compound at the moment?”_ _

__“Nine, sir. We’ve already located their positions and have eyes on them as we speak.”_ _

__While a sensible precaution that Blake appreciates, something tells him that it’s not going to be that simple. “I suggest you concentrate your efforts on locating the remaining sixteen,” he cautions._ _

__They wait while the guards ‘discover’ that the duty officer – Lieutenant Leigh Carver, he’s told – has miraculously regained consciousness. Word of mouth proves faster than any official bulletin as the medical facility is soon abuzz with the good news that Carver is not only _awake_ , but that she remembers her assailant. Blake leans forward until he’s at the very edge of his seat waiting for something (anything!) to happen – even so, he’s not completely prepared for when something _does_ happen._ _

__It starts with a Lance soldier bursting into the med center’s hallway, shouldering aside one of the guards who attempts to stop him. “Where did that soldier come from?” Ballard snaps._ _

__“Access door A-18,” someone else says, presumably checking the other camera feeds. “It was supposed to be locked down…”_ _

__“Who cares where they came from? _Stop_ them,” Blake yells over the sudden babble of voices in the room. “DeWitt; get down there _now_.”_ _

__“ _Sir_.” His self-appointed bodyguard disappears at a run, and Blake watches the pandemonium unfold on the monitors. He’s not exactly sure how one person can be this determined; the soldier is clearly outnumbered, yet is _still_ trying to break through to the observation room. The soldier disappears beneath a swarm of bodies and DeWitt is finally there to wade into the fray. _ _

__An hour later, they’re trying to piece together exactly when the plan had gone wrong; not a single soul had been prepared for Lieutenant Carver’s live-in to show up, because no one had thought to _actually find out_ that the woman had anyone who would care that she’d almost died. The unfortunate man, a Specialist assigned to the upkeep of the Neon Arterial, is still being treated for a collapsed lung and several broken bones at the hands of some overzealous soldiers._ _

__Blake rubs his temples wearily, leaning back in his chair. “The nine?”_ _

__“All accounted for,” Ballard admits. “We’re pulling Holden back to see if she noticed anything in particular while we review the footage.”_ _

__“As long as it’s more careful than the gathering of background information concerning Carver,” Blake says pointedly, making Ballard wince. “Honestly, Derrick. If Ted were here…”_ _

__“I know,” the younger man says ruefully. “There’s no excuse for it.”_ _

__“Do better,” Blake counsels._ _

__“Yes, Mister Blake.”_ _

__DeWitt accompanies him on a walk around Meridian to look at some of the new construction, and have a word with a few of the latest vendors who had opened their shops after being lured to Promethea. His training in the world of mercenary relations, as well as his disastrous stint as president of Hyperion, serves him in good stead; Blake does his best to ensure that each vendor feels appreciated, listening to their comments and concerns._ _

__One of the fledgeling establishments is clearly tempting Blake’s companion and they’ve already missed the midday meal, so they walk into the Dynasty Diner and find a table. The owner wastes no time in coming up to them, still wiping his hands on some sort of rag attached to his apron. “Mister Blake! This is an honor; what can I get you?”_ _

__“I shall leave the choice to you,” Blake says, glancing over at DeWitt. “Master Sergeant?”_ _

__“The Special’s good enough for me, Beau. How’s business?”_ _

__Beau smiles, clearly pleased with life at the moment. “Business is great. I’ve been experimenting with a few recipes, and I think you’re gonna love what I’ve done with the burgers.”_ _

__“Oh, yeah?”_ _

__“I found a new source of meat and people can’t stay away! Everyone says the restaurant business is a tough one and I’ve been worried, I’m not gonna lie…but now I’ve got _regulars_. Me! Regulars!”_ _

__“That’s awesome, Beau. Good for you.”_ _

__“Thanks; I’ll bring out your food right away,” Beau promises. “It’s really great to have you here, Mister Blake. Wait ‘til I tell the staff you came by!” The man almost dances back behind the counter, shouldering aside the revolving door and yelling the good news to whomever is back there._ _

__Blake looks across the table at his companion, who grins back at him. “Bring the Admiral in here with you next time and he’ll _really_ lose his mind.”_ _

__“I find myself more concerned with the source of meat. He looked a heartbeat away from giving the word air quotes,” Blake says. “Has there been any trouble regarding the construction that I should be aware of?”_ _

__DeWitt thinks about it. “I don’t think so, sir, but I will definitely see what I can find out. There’ve been some discussions about organized sports, though that’s not the same thing…”_ _

__“Sports?” Blake isn’t particularly interested in them, himself, but he knows that sports might provide welcome distraction from the Atlas Corporation’s current financial slump. “Do you have anything particular in mind?”_ _

__“I was thinking volleyball,” DeWitt says. “That’s something practically all of us know how to play, except we could get some regulation balls instead of just using our helmets. Things are getting better with Ares looking out for us, but tensions are running high with Maliwan stirring the pot; it’d be a welcome distraction if we could set up leagues, make it official.”_ _

__They pause the conversation when Beau comes out with two platters piled high with food, sliding one in front of each of them. “Enjoy your meal.”_ _

__He hovers nervously as Blake looks over his lunch carefully – Ted would have an absolute _fit_ if he could see what’s sitting in front of Blake right now. Blake picks up one of the thick slices of fried…something…and takes a cautious first bite. He’s surprised to realize that it’s actually quite delicious. DeWitt has a mouthful of his own burger and is making orgasmic noises on the other side of the table. “Thank you,” Blake says, reaching for another piece of food. “I’ll be sure to bring Ted by when his schedule allows for it.”_ _

__Beau’s face lights up. “Oh, shit, you’d bring-! I mean, _thank you_ , sir!”_ _

__DeWitt grins and takes another massive bite. “Told you.”_ _

__“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Master Sergeant.”_ _


	7. Young enough to know better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted comes back to Meridian to find that Blake’s patience is wearing thin. It’s kind of hot, but you can’t prove that he thinks so. Zed gives out some unsolicited relationship advice via ECHO, and Ted decides to take it.

Ted returns to find that Blake isn’t there waiting for him and there’s no reason why he should feel irritated about it. No reason at all, so he’s going to pretend that everything’s just fine. It’s good that Blake’s out of his hair, because the last thing he needs is the guy still mooning over him; he’s getting a little tired of being made to feel bad for not remembering a damned thing.

Not that Blake actively tries to do it…it just happens anyway.

He sheds his clothes on the way to the bathroom, intent on using the ridiculously large heated pool, but then backtracks to pick everything up off of the floor. Ted’s returning to the bathroom when – of course! – the door opens and in walks Blake just in time to see that he’s completely naked. “Where’ve _you_ been,” Ted complains. 

“Shoe shopping; where else?” Blake returns, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We can’t all go gallivanting off to a moon the instant we become uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t fuckin’ _gallivant_. C’mon in here with me; I need t’know what’s been goin’ on around here while I was gone,” Ted tells him, turning to walk into the bathroom. He’s halfway there when he realizes that Blake hasn’t moved, and it’s not because the old bastard’s admiring his ass. “Come _here_.”

Blake lifts his chin. “No. I am neither your personal assistant nor your inferior, and you will not treat me as if I am.”

“What-”

“If you would like to know anything regarding Promethean current events, then you are more than welcome to ask. _Politely_ ,” Blake says, eyeing him malevolently. “Is that clear?”

Ted is taken aback, and he can’t even hide it. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, it…it is.”

Blake’s glare intensifies. “Wonderful.”

“I’ll just be…” Ted gestures towards the bathroom, and Blake’s response is a blink that takes about thirty seconds to complete. “Yeah.”

Well, that had been a disaster. Ted makes his retreat as gracefully as possible, wondering how this latest interaction with Jeffrey Blake could have gone any worse. He’s in the bathing pool and still thinking about it when Blake walks in and sits down on the bench next to the pool. “If you have a moment, I would like to go over some things with you,” Blake says, as if their earlier exchange hadn’t happened.

“Okay,” Ted says cautiously.

“While you were absent, I took the liberty of arranging a trap for your murderer.”

“You _what_!”

“The trap was ultimately sprung by someone who had no connection to your untimely demise, and I’ve asked several of your troops to continue combing through the footage in an attempt to learn more,” Blake tells him. “The only one who was confirmed to be present at both the place of your assassination as well as near the site of our failed ambush is Andrew Leith, your former adjutant.”

The name is familiar, and Ted has a flashback of someone weeping. “ _I’m so sorry, sir_ …” He doesn’t remember the man, but he knows Leith had been there as he’d died. “Anyone talk to him?”

Blake lifts himself off of the bench just long enough to straighten his suit jacket, then sits down again. “He’s been interviewed several times by the security team as well as the trauma counselor; it’s been determined that Leith was drawn to Observation 14 because he wanted to discover the identity of your murderer.”

“Sounds like you’re not sure ‘bout that,” Ted ventures. “What d’you mean, a trauma counselor? Since when did we get one of those?”

“I remain unsure of many things,” Blake says pointedly. “There are far too many suspects and not nearly enough solid leads to narrow the search. As far as the trauma counselor is concerned, she was brought on board within the last year.”

Ted’s not sure why they would even need anyone like that, and he says as much. “We _never_ had one of those hacks.”

“That explains quite a lot,” Blake says. “Have you washed yourself yet?”

“You jumped all over me for askin’ you to let me know what’s up, but now you’re doin’ the same thing?”

Blake crosses his legs primly. “ _I_ was asking. _You_ were being an ass. There is a difference.”

“Uh huh,” Ted says. He steps out of the pool, conscious of Blake’s eyes on him. “So, tell me somethin’.”

“Please,” Blake prompts.

Ted ignores the suggestion and grabs a towel instead. “We were on Pandora together; did we see my brothers, at all?”

“Yes, we definitely saw them.” Blake laughs suddenly. “I’d forgotten that you no longer remember that. Would you like me to tell you about them?”

Ted waits to answer until he lifts one of the black bathrobes from a nearby hook and slips into it, tying it closed. From his current experience, it’s only been a handful of years since he’d left Fyrestone and never looked back. The memory of Zed’s angry curses ring in his ears, and he can still see the anguished look in Ned’s eyes as he’d turned away to board the Atlas shuttle. “Yeah. That’d be nice, if you don’t mind.”

“You can always call them and ask them yourself,” Blake says. 

“Maybe…maybe later.”

He learns that Ned is shacked up with an ex-Vault Hunter and is atoning for past mistakes that somehow include zombies. It hurts to know that his formerly carefree triplet is battling with alcoholism and depression, but Blake is convinced that Ned’s recovery is in good hands. Zed, on the other hand…he’d never before imagined _Zed_ as a father. It’s been surprise enough to see his brother’s name and likeness on the med vendors. He’s definitely curious to see, if not meet, the life partners of both brothers.

Ted makes the impulsive decision to call them, after all, and Blake promises to take care of it while Ted finds a fresh uniform. He pulls on the single black dress uniform hanging in the closet and starts to feel sorry for his decision as nerves get the best of him – he hasn’t seen either of his brothers for several years. Not that he remembers, anyway. 

He wonders if it’s too late to back out and goes out to tell Blake that there’s a training exercise that requires his attention, but Blake’s already connected to the Pandora satellites. “Timothy! I wasn’t aware that you were still in residence,” Blake says warmly. His tone raises Ted’s hackles immediately – hadn’t he said that Timothy Lawrence was with Ned? Why is Blake so friendly towards him? Why does Ted even _care?_

“The fuck is that?” Ted says irritably, rounding the corner and stopping beside Blake.

“ _Whoa, whoa, **whoa**_ ,” the man on the ECHO screen (Lawrence?) says. “ _Ted? How did you…? That **is** you, right? Holy **shit**. Jeff, you lucky bastard!_”

Ted narrows his eyes, taking in the undeniably handsome features of the other man. He’s not better looking than Ted is, though, no matter how highly he thinks of himself. “I thought you’d be younger.”

“ _Classic Ted_ ,” Timothy Lawrence comments, laughing. What is that supposed to mean? Does this loser really think he knows anything about Ted? “ _Ned and I just got back from Eden-6. Jeff, did you **know** that they’re related to the Jakobs family on their mother’s side? I mean, no wonder Jakobs didn’t come down on Ned like a ton of bricks after- oh, here’s Zed.”_

Ted is still trying to get his brain to catch up to the information the guy’s just foisted on him, so he’s in no way prepared to see his triplet shove Lawrence out of frame. “ _Beat it, kid. Ted? I thought you weren’t gonna…_ ” Zed trails off, staring at Ted in disbelief.

He’s not the only one staring because at some point along the line, Zed’s gotten old. Ted leans forward despite himself, taking in the streaks of white in his brother’s hair and the age lines at the corners of Zed’s eyes. “Damn, you’re… _old_.”

“ _Says the baby-faced Meridian Murder Machine,_ ” Zed says finally. “ _What the hell happened t’you, and how do I get it to happen t’ **me**_?”

Blake excuses himself while Ted gets reacquainted with his brother. It’s almost like he’s talking to his own father again; Zed’s grown to look just like him. Which means that Ned has, too, and so has Ted…just not right now. “This’s crazy – for me, it’s been just a few years since I left home. Last time I saw you…” Ted shakes his head. “So, uh…I hear you’re someone’s poppa, now? For real?”

Older or not, Zed’s smile has stayed the same. “ _Hell yeah, I sure am. Two of the prettiest li’l girls you ever saw; I’d bring ‘em in here, but they’ve got their nap right now.”_

“Pretty, huh? Must take after their momma, then,” Ted teases, watching how Zed fairly swells with pride.

“ _You don’t know the half of it,_ ” Zed tells him. “ _Speakin’ of pretty. Blake’s probably beside himself with you lookin’ like that…but you can’t even remember him? Must be rough for both of y’all._ ”

“It’s kinda weird, I’ll tell you that much.”

Zed suggests that it might be worth getting to know Blake again for the first time. “ _Thought you’d lost your whole entire mind for bein’ with that dude, but he loves the hell outta you. Somethin’ like that? You don’t fuck that up. Who knows? It might even help you remember._ ”

Ted isn’t sure dating Jeffrey Blake is the answer to anything but given how absolutely everyone on Promethea is so damned nosey about both of them…it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot. “Yeah, maybe. Tell me more about you. How long’s it really been?”

“ _Thirty years, give or take_ ,” Zed says, the smile slipping from his face. “ _Only had you back for a couple months ‘fore I lost you again. Then I **kinda** had you back lookin’ like someone’s clinically depressed grandpa. Now this. I can’t take much more of this, Ted, I really can’t.”_

“I…I had t’leave, after Paw died. Hell, even before that I needed to go – Fyrestone was never gonna be my life. Not like it was yours. I needed to make somethin’ of myself, see what else was out there.” Ted sighs. “They tell me I’m in charge here now, for what that’s worth.”

Zed studies him without speaking for several long moments. “ _It took me a long time to get over you leavin’ us behind, but life’s sure fucked you over along the way…and I’ve heard the stories. I know what the Crimson Lance was, and what you’ve made of it. If you’re in charge now, I’d say that’s worth plenty._ ”

“Is it, though?”

“ _It is_ ,” Zed confirms. “ _You don’t remember enough to be **too** mad at me for sayin’ this, but you need t’get that smooth infant ass of yours to a freakin’ therapist._”

“I remember enough about you never mindin’ your own damn business, Zed-”

His brother laughs at him. “ _See? Some things never change no matter how young an’ dumb they get. Get some help ‘fore your skinny one dumps your ass and finds someone else to spank. Now, you wanna see your nieces or what._ ”

Ted glares at the screen. “You said it was their nap.”

“ _I lied; they’re right here._ ” Zed ducks out of frame and comes back with a child in each arm. “ _Leandra’s on the right, and this’s Hypaetia._ ”

Ted is charmed despite himself; he’s always loved children. It’s nice that Zed’s named one of them after their mother. “They’re as cute as can be, ain’t they? Their momma must be a looker, for sure,” he says admiringly. 

“ _Yeah, she ain’t bad._ ” Zed is uncharacteristically smug about his good fortune, but declines to introduce his mate – assuming that she’s even there to begin with. “ _I’ll have Ned send you a message when he gets back…and done with ridin’ Tim into the dirt. In the meantime, you can think about what I told you and you can start rememberin’ that you can call me anytime you need. Family looks out for family._ ”

“Thanks,” Ted says, not exactly sure of what he’s feeling right now. “Look, Zed. It’s, uh…it’s good t’see you again. Real good.”

His brother smiles, and it really is just like it’s their father on the other side of the connection. Ted’s heart aches at the realization. “ _Same here_.”

“Even if you’re old as hell. Give those little ones a kiss from me.”

“ _Will do_.”

The connection goes dead, and Ted stares at the blank screen long enough to see the reflection of Blake peering back into the room. “He looks just like our daddy.”

“Oh? That must complicate your feelings about contacting him, especially now,” Blake says intuitively. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Ted turns to look at the other man, at the dark brown eyes fixed on him as if there’s never been anything more important. “I think we prob’ly spend too much time talkin’ about me as it is, and not enough time on _you_ ,” he says, watching one of Blake’s eyebrows quirk in surprise. The hair there is darker than the hair on Blake’s head, and Ted reaches out to run the pad of his index finger along the elegant arch of it. “Do you wanna…I dunno, go somewhere?”

Blake just looks at him. “Are you asking me on a _date_ , Theodore?”

“I guess I am,” Ted admits.

He’s totally unprepared for Blake’s sudden, dazzling smile. “I believe that I would like that,” Blake tells him. Ted’s mouth goes inexplicably dry, and his cock stiffens at the approval saturating that deep, velvety voice. What the _hell_? “I would like that _very_ much,” Blake adds as if he’s unaware of Ted’s inner turmoil.

There’s a chance that he isn’t…but there’s a gleam in Blake’s eye that indicates that he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Great,” Ted says, feeling heat creeping up his neck.

He has about a million questions for himself but chief among them is where the _hell_ he picked up a praise kink.


	8. Old, Dumb, and in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake and Ted have their first date, all over again. 
> 
> [WARNING: Rating has increased...again.]

He expects Ted’s idea of a first date to be visiting the shooting range, and Blake is surprised when Ted takes him to the docks instead. “Where are we going?” he asks.

“The water,” Ted says unhelpfully. “You been out here yet?”

Blake looks around at the shipping containers full of building supplies earmarked for Lectra City. “I have not,” he admits. “There was always so much to do, we hadn’t even discussed it as a possibility.”

“Well, we’re here now…and we’ll be out _there_ if Whatsherface would get a damned move on.” Ted is putting his new adjutant through the wringer and Corporal Holden has consistently risen to the challenge, openly thrilled about her new assignment. It’s only a matter of time before one of them gives in and as loyal as he is, Blake doesn’t think it’s going to be Holden.

“Do you see her?” Blake murmurs as an aside to his own aide, who is also someone he’s never managed to be rid of. In Blake’s case, Eli DeWitt’s devotion is a definite source of comfort.

DeWitt steps forward slightly. “There was a, uh, slight issue with the barge captain.”

Ted looks over. “Which was taken care of,” he says warningly.

“It absolutely was, Admiral.”

“You’re not allowed to bully Elijah, Theodore – that is _my_ job,” Blake says. “See, here she is now.”

The barge docks, clearly not fast enough to suit Ted, and Holden bounds up to them with a smile and rigidly precise salute. “Your ship awaits, sirs.”

“We’ve been the ones awaitin’ the damn thing,” Ted tells her. “You wanna explain why that is, Corporal?”

She salutes again, and Blake watches the twitch start up in the corner of Ted’s left eye. “Yessir, Admiral Ares, sir! The original barge _was_ here, but its captain declined to make the changes you’d asked for…so I traded that ship for this one. The crew was happy to help me set this up, sir,” Holden says, gesturing to the stack of shipping crates.

Ted gives the young soldier a barely-tolerant look, as if he’s planning on making her swim alongside the barge. Blake’s not sure why this is supposed to be ‘first date material’; it looks like any other barge situated along the docks. “A’ight, then, we’d best get on with this mess,” Ted sighs, reaching out a hand to help Blake onto the deck. Blake accepts the hand even as he’s a bit piqued that Ted would think he needed it, glancing back at DeWitt to see a hastily hidden grin.

“What, exactly, is the plan?” Blake asks. He wonders if Ted intends for them to travel to Lectra City and help with the construction there; it’s not an ideal first date, but it will be an interesting one.

He’s surprised yet again as Ted leads him around the stack of metal containers – there, on the other side, is a table set for two. Strands of twinkling lights have been strung up as well. There is a seating area with pillows and blankets, _plants_ have been scattered about the deck, and textiles hung up to cover the rusted metal of the cargo containers. Soft music is being piped in from somewhere, and one of the new service bots hovers in anticipation of forthcoming requests. The whole effect is of an intimate setting that Blake might find on any sophisticated world he’s ever visited.

Ted looks around slowly, then back at an anxious Holden. “How long did it take you?”

She straightens. “I worked as fast as I could, Admiral.”

“Which was…how fast?” Ted insists.

Holden looks as though she’d love to shift her feet nervously. “I had one hour, sir.”

Ted gazes down at her, his face unreadable until he finally dips his head in an unmistakable gesture of approval. “Well done, Corporal Holden. Dismissed.”

The praise stiffens her spine and puts a pleased flush to her cheeks. “Yes, sir.”

Blake smiles behind the hand he lifts to rub at his nose. “Nicely handled, Theodore.”

“Why d’you-” Ted suddenly realizes that DeWitt hasn’t excused himself and turns towards the man. “You. Scram.” DeWitt comes to attention, salutes, and waits for Blake’s nod of permission before departing. Ted’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“I’ll have a word with him,” Blake says.

“When you do, be sure to mention that I’d be glad to ship his insubordinate ass to another garrison.” Ted’s demeanor shifts into deliberate mildness. “Would you like a drink?”

Blake accepts the olive branch. “I would love one, thank you.”

The barge’s motor starts up as Ted pulls out Blake’s chair for him, and soon they’re cutting through the water smoothly with the city blocked from view by the shipping crates stacked behind them. “How many others were aware of your plans tonight?” Blake asks curiously, accepting the martini offered by the service bot.

“About five of ‘em, but probably there’s more now on account of the barge fuck-up,” Ted sighs. “Who knows.”

“I’m sure there won’t be a problem,” Blake assures him, leaning back in his chair and looking around again. “I was not expecting…. _anything_ like this, to be honest with you.”

“Where the hell else am I s’posed to take your skinny ass? The firing range?”

Blake confesses that he had, indeed, expected that very thing. Ted suggests that there’s still time for that to happen and acts like he’s going to tell everyone to turn the barge back around. “Don’t even think of it,” Blake warns, and Ted gives him a mischievous grin.

“So, I was thinkin’…maybe we could start over again? Y’know, like we just met right now?” Ted frowns slightly. “Sayin’ it out loud makes it sound stupid. Never mind-”

“No, that’s perfect,” Blake interrupts, and extends his hand over the table. “My name is Jeffrey Blake.”

Ted hesitates slightly before reaching out for Blake’s offered hand. “Ted Blanco.”

“Is it short for anything?” Blake asks.

“Should it be?”

“You look much more like a ‘Theodore’, in my opinion,” he smiles. “Do you have a middle name?”

Ted has never looked more mystified. “ _Should_ I have one? D’ _you_ have one?”

“Actually, yes. It’s Damien.”

“It suits you,” Ted says. “I could call you J.D. for short.” He laughs at whatever look is on Blake’s face in response to the new nickname. “If you could give me a middle name…what would it be?”

Blake smiles back. “You’ve often said that it should be Danger but I am inclined to name you Gerald, instead.

“Theodore Gerald Blanco’s got a ring to it.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” 

They swap more personal information such as their places of birth and favorite pastimes, and Blake is finally able to set aside the lingering heartache so that he can simply enjoy being with Ted. Their minders are close enough to assist should something go wrong, but far enough away to give them a decent amount of privacy. 

The barge slowly turns until they are facing Meridian – it’s a truly spectacular view from the water, and Blake admires yet again how Ted has built up the city. A quick glance shows that Ted is looking at it, too. “Have you eaten yet?” Ted asks suddenly.

“I…no, I have not,” Blake admits. “Given that this particular model of service bot is a poor choice for anything but liquids, I hope you are not about to suggest a protein drink.”

Ted frowns slightly. “I was thinkin’ more along the lines of actual food…what’s wrong with protein drinks though?”

“They are disgusting and inhumane. Actual food sounds wonderful, however.”

“Okay, great. There’s this new shop on the Campus just opened up.”

It’s Blake’s turn to frown as he thinks of it. “The noodle place?”

Ted’s face falls. “Oh, you been there already.”

“Actually, I have not,” Blake confides, noting the look of relief in Ted’s eyes. “To be quite honest, I’ve been hesitant because I never learned how to use chopsticks and I was told that those were the only implements available.”

“I could teach you how, no problem.” Blake doesn’t think that Ted has ever been so adorably earnest, and his heart turns over at the encouraging smile he’s being given.

He reaches over and touches the back of Ted’s hand lightly, watches Ted swallow in response to it. “Yes, please. Let’s.” Blake pulls back so that he doesn’t give into the impulse to tease Ted any further.

Conversation is guided safely back beyond the minefield of physical touch and all the longing that goes with it. 

They discuss Hyperion and with it, Corraza. Ted is intensely interested in Blake’s acquisition of the company, and they enter into an animated discussion about the role mercenary relations takes with different arms manufacturers. It’s not the type of conversation that Blake is used to having with Ted but it proves just as enjoyable, and Blake is delighted to uncover yet another facet of the man he loves. 

It’s also nice to spend time with Ted when Ted isn’t trying to be anyone other than himself – a rarity, given the responsibilities Ted’s shouldered lately. While Blake fully understands Ted’s need to constantly _be_ his rank, Blake has missed Ted being…well, _Ted_.

They talk about everything and nothing at all. It’s an unwelcome surprise to find that the barge has docked, and Blake is startled when he realizes how much time has really passed; it seems as though they’d only been there for fifteen minutes or so. DeWitt is sent off to a distant guard position when he would approach them, and Blake slips a hand around Ted’s bicep to assuage any misplaced jealousy. “Master Sergeant DeWitt is very devoted to my wellbeing and is only attempting to do his job,” he says lightly.

“Hmph,” is Ted’s only response. 

Ted guides him to the ramen shop where the owner is patently delighted that Promethea’s most infamous couple is in attendance. They make their selections after asking the woman’s opinions on the various dishes, and Ted slides an unopened packet of chopsticks across the table. “I’m not sure I will ever get the hang of this,” Blake admits when he’s fumbled the things for the fifth straight time.

“Not with that attitude, you won’t. Here, shove over.” Blake moves over to make room for Ted so that they can sit side-by-side, and Ted reaches for Blake’s hands. “First of all, you gotta relax. This ain’t life or death; it’s just some noodles…”

Their hands touch and Ted goes still. Blake’s heart pounds at the seemingly innocent contact because it’s the first time in…how long _has_ it been since they’d actually touched each other? “Ah, yes. The constants of existence – life, death, and noodles,” Blake says in a wild attempt to distract them both before he drags Ted off to the nearest closet.

“I thought it was just death an’ taxes,” Ted replies. His hands settle around Blake’s and, beneath the table, Blake can feel the press of a muscular thigh against his own. “Okay, so do _this_ …yeah, there y’go…and then hold that other one _here_. When you pick somethin’ up – try it with that salt packet. See?”

Blake smiles with pleasure at being able to retrieve the indicated object. “I believe that I do.” To prove it, he uses the chopsticks to pluck the napkin from Ted’s hand and moves a packet of sugar substitute to the other side of the table.

“You picked it up real quick,” Ted praises him, slipping a hand down to rest it on Blake’s knee and give it a friendly squeeze. 

Heat spreads through him and leaves his mouth dry, his pulse pounding. “Theodore, perhaps you shouldn’t…ah…”

Ted leans in with a smile. “You put out on the first date, right? Don’t you break my heart an’ say no.” Ted’s hand slowly inches its way up Blake’s leg before sliding over…and going back atop the table because their fucking noodles are being brought out to them. “Forget about the proverbial bell. You just got saved by some ramen, Fancy Pants.”

“You are insufferable at any age,” Blake informs him, wondering if he’s sweating.

“Somethin’ to think about next time you try to pat me on the head and say I’m a good boy.”

“I thought you liked it when I did that.”

“That ain’t the point.” Ted aims a megawatt smile at the woman who’s brought their bowls out to them. “This looks great; thank you, ma’am.”

She blushes and smiles, nearly tipping the noodles into Blake’s lap. “Please let me know if there’s anything else you’d like, Admiral Ares. Mister Blake.”

“Privacy would be wonderful,” Blake suggests.

“Why, sir, that is just _scandalous_ ,” Ted grins. “Hopin’ I’ll pick up where I left off?”

“Hoping not to be observed while I unwittingly sling noodles everywhere is more the thing,” Blake says. “They are too slippery. Much like a certain doctor’s morals.” 

He struggles with it while Ted watches silently, finally putting him out of his misery. “It ain’t like a regular meal where the plate stays put and so do you - with this, you gotta meet in the middle.” Ted lifts his bowl and bends over it slightly to demonstrate. “Also, hold those at an angle. See? Then you just kinda…shovel it in there.”

Blake’s sure that he looks ridiculous, but the noodles are worth it. He might smuggle in a fork the next time he visits, however. 

After the meal, Ted walks him back to their quarters and disappears for a few hours. Blake isn’t sure how he feels about that, but he _does_ know that he’d thoroughly enjoyed their ‘first’ date. Ted seems more at ease around him; certainly enough to tease, and it’s encouraging that they’d gotten along so well despite their initial rough start.

He has a long soak in the bathing pool while he goes over the latest numbers from the Corraza accounts, then reads the security reports that Ballard had sent earlier. Blake browses the ECHOnet for something else that will take his mind off of the fact that Ted had been mere inches away from… _no_ , he’s not going to think about it.

Ted still hasn’t returned by the time Blake is ready to go to sleep, which is inconvenient because Blake had thought Ted might be receptive to an advance or two. “Ridiculous,” Blake scoffs at his own reflection. What a thing to think about. Ted has obviously thought better of his behavior on their date, no matter that Blake had been convinced that it had actually gone _well_. “It seems you have much to learn,” he informs the mirror with a sigh. How ‘well’ had it really gone if Ted had practically left a smoke trail upon retreat?

His dreams don’t think he needs to forget anything that had happened; in fact, they embellish upon almost every single detail. He can feel Ted’s hand slipping into his lap, firmly massaging his groin to encourage the rapid growth of Blake’s erection. Ted murmurs in his ear and even though Blake knows he’s dreaming, he can’t stop himself from enjoying any of it even as Ted mounts him right there in front of the owner of the ramen shop. She clasps her hands together and thanks them for coming.

Blake rises to wakefulness, his strange erotic dream melting from his consciousness slowly enough that he can still feel Ted behind him. He soon becomes aware that it’s not a dream at all, because Ted is definitely behind him and currently parting Blake’s buttocks to nestle his cock between them. “What are you doing?” Blake murmurs even as he shoves his hips back into the intimate touch.

Ted presses forward, sighing as he grinds the tip of his cock against Blake’s flesh. He doesn’t seem to be attempting penetration of any kind; he’s just rubbing himself there and enjoying himself. “Want me t’stop?”

“No,” Blake admits. “Still-”

“I just wanna feel good for a little while,” Ted breathes in his ear. “Let me?”

It will further complicate things between them, and Blake _knows_ he shouldn’t allow this, but he wants Ted so badly it’s become unbearable. “Very well.”

Ted makes a pleased noise and presses harder, enjoying the pressure. Blake is certainly enjoying it. He makes a few sounds of his own when Ted leans in to bite his neck, then runs his tongue over the marks. They rub against each other for several heavenly moments before Blake dislodges Ted, who is clearly disgruntled at the interruption. “C’mon-”

“Patience,” Blake counsels, rolling to one side so that he can dig the bottle of lubricant out from his nightstand. Ted’s hands are quick to pull him back into place, and Blake’s eyes close at the feeling of Ted’s slickened cock nudging back into place. “ _Theodore_.”

“Mmm,” Ted hums in his ear, flattening a hand on Blake’s stomach and moving it down. “That’s nice, huh.”

Ted’s fingers tease at Blake’s cock, circling around the head lightly before trailing down to massage his scrotum with a firmer grip, then sliding back up to wrap around the shaft. Ted pumps slowly, thumbing the tip on each upstroke and pressing the tip of his own dick against Blake on the downstroke. The pattern is simply too, too good…and all he wants is to be stretched around that thick, gorgeous cock, misgivings be damned. Blake takes advantage of Ted’s next few movements by shifting his hips so that when the head of Ted’s phallus presses forward, it’s caught against the entrance to Blake’s body and sinks in ever so slightly.

Ted rocks to a halt immediately and Blake doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t dare to even breathe. “Uh…” 

“If you would rather not, I will understand,” Blake says carefully, as if it doesn’t matter to him at all. His body has other plans, however, and tightens spasmodically. Ted can clearly feel _that_ , as well as the way that Blake’s cock thumps against his fingers.

“No, no, I’d _rather_ ,” Ted hastily assures him. “It’s just, I thought this’d be just a dry hump situation and I don’t usually go in raw. So.”

Blake knows that if he allows Ted to leave just for the length of time it takes to find a condom, one or both of them will probably change their mind. He wants this so _badly_. “Would you _like_ to?” Feeling like he’s the worst person alive, Blake shoves his hips back so that the tip of Ted’s cock begins to penetrate him. 

Ted lets out an oath and pushes in further, clearly abandoning any second thoughts. “Oh, _fuck_ , yes.” 

The hand on his cock resumes its movement, and Blake can’t stop the cry of pleasure from ripping from his throat. Ted leaves another set of dental imprints on his skin and pulls out completely, breathing in ragged pants as he fumbles for the lube. “Quickly,” Blake finds himself begging, his entire body aflame with need. 

He hears the squelching noise of the gel filling Ted’s palm and the staccato snap of the lid being replaced. There’s far too much lube, Blake thinks, but then Ted’s smoothing it on the appropriate areas before guiding Blake up onto hands and knees. “How ready’re you, ‘cause I just want…I just…” Ted’s heavy breathing wafts its way up Blake’s spine. “I’m gonna fuck the hell outta you.”

Ted’s cock spears into him, and Blake throws his hands out to keep from being knocked onto his face. There is a lot to be said about youthful exuberance, he supposes. There’s a slight burn from the abruptness of it, but that dissipates quickly into pure pleasure at finally having his shadow’s body joined with his once again. He braces himself and welcomes the strong, quick thrusts. 

Blake has no illusions about what’s going to happen, especially since Ted’s hands are grasping his waist with bruising force and his movements are growing more frenetic. There’s also the fact that Ted is now a healthy twenty-three year old male with no other sexual outlets beyond his right hand; Blake can do nothing less than forgive Ted for prioritizing his own orgasm. “Oh, no,” he hears Ted groan. “Oh, man. Not _now_ -!” Despite it all, Blake has to laugh. 

He’s laughing on the inside, though, because young men are notoriously sensitive about these things.

“Sorry, Sticks,” Ted says next, which makes laughter the last thing on Blake’s mind. “I’ll get you next time, I swear.” He pulls out and gives Blake’s backside an appreciative pat, moving to pull his shirt over his head. “Here, you can use this.”

“What did just you call me?” Blake asks.

Ted looks puzzled as he thinks about it. “What? You mean, Sticks?”

“Yes.”

“I dunno, you’re just real skinny. Like a bundle of sticks.” Ted’s expression changes suddenly. “I mean, I won’t call you that if you don’t like it-”

Blake doesn’t know whether to laugh, or cry. “No, please. That name is…it’s fine. It certainly won’t keep me from inviting you back to my bed, which I’m sure is what you are truly wondering.”

“You’re kind of a bitch; anyone ever tell you that?” Ted wonders.

Laughter it is, then. “Oh, Theodore. Some things never _do_ change,” Blake says. “Thankfully, your sexual stamina wasn’t one of those things.”

“I told your skinny ole ass I’d get you next time, and I meant it,” Ted says indignantly, drawing Blake’s attention with a downward wave of his hand. “What position you want?” He spits in his hand and gives his stiffening cock a few strokes.

Oh, to be young again.

Ted lasts a great deal longer now that the edge of his sexual frustration has finally been blunted. Blake finds himself well satisfied, if a bit sore, by the time Ted finishes up. “So?” Ted asks immediately, his chest still heaving due to their carnal exertions.

“That was wonderful, my darling,” Blake says sleepily. “You lived up to your promise in spectacular fashion.”

Ted eases himself out, flinging his limbs out into a stretch. “Yeah, it was better this time. Listen. Not to make it weird, or anything, but d’you think we could…?”

Blake’s eyes open wide. “Good lord, Theodore – not _again_.”

“What? Oh, no…not that I couldn’t get it up for Lucky Number Three ‘cause I _could_. I just…this isn’t just for _now_ …is it?” Ted looks heartbreakingly vulnerable, and Blake couldn’t refuse him even if he’d wanted to. He’s never been able to deny Ted much of anything.

“Oh, my beautiful boy. I am yours for as long as I breathe,” Blake says gently, reaching out to take one of Ted’s hands in his own. “Perhaps even longer than that. If you need me for anything at all, I am here.”

Ted’s mouth compresses tightly and he looks away to hide the distress in his eyes. “I can’t say that I love you an’ really _mean_ it. Kinda wish I could.”

“I expect nothing-”

“Maybe you _should_. I barged in here ‘cause I wanted to fuck, and you just…let me do it ‘cause you love me. But I ain’t really the one you love, so _why_? Neither of us deserves that.” Ted rakes his hands through his hair in agitation.

Blake sits up, heedless of the mess they’ve made on the sheets as well as on his own torso. “Listen to me. You came here because you needed a sexual outlet and while I am happy to provide that, I am even more pleased that you came to _me_ instead of complicating matters by jumping into bed with one or more of your subordinates.”

“If I did that, I’d be no better’n all those fuckers I killed.” Ted is outraged by the suggestion.

“The man that I love would do no less than refuse on those very grounds,” Blake continues, feeling tenderness well up inside him. “Do you not _see_? I love _you_ , no matter how old or young you may be at this moment; your spirit, your particular - and sometimes worrisome - code of ethics, your sense of humor, your brilliance. _You_. You deserve far more than I can ever give you.”

Ted’s brow furrows. “Nobody loves me like that. Nobody’s _ever_ …”

“Well, now someone does,” Blake says. He reaches out to finger-comb Ted’s hair back into place, smiling, and Ted returns the favor by swiping one of his own fingers through the sticky mess decorating Blake’s stomach. Eyes locked onto Blake’s, Ted sticks the finger into his mouth. “You’ve a way to defuse almost any situation, I will give you that,” Blake says wryly after a long pause.

“I don’t got any more towels to clean you up,” Ted replies, eyeing Blake thoughtfully. “Lie down.”

This is the most radical way to change the subject Blake’s ever seen, but Blake soon realizes that Ted is simply expressing his gratitude the best way he knows how. There have been many occasions in which Ted’s body spoke sweetly enough to make up for all the things he couldn’t yet express aloud. So Blake settles back and allows Ted to lean over him, using his tongue to lap up the rapidly drying ejaculate. Ted licks him clean and brings his mouth down between Blake’s thighs. “I am too old for this,” Blake warns.

“We’ll see,” is all Ted says, drawing Blake’s cock into his mouth.

He’s _far_ too old, and there isn’t an InstaHealth in sight – Blake has no idea what Ted thinks he’s playing at…yet, incredibly, the strength of his own feelings and the gentle yet insistent suction begin to produce the results Ted is after. “You’ll kill me,” Blake moans, his flesh steadily firming up beneath the swirling motions of that devilishly talented tongue. 

But oh, what a way to _go_.

Ted sucks him into a frenzy using his tongue, lips, and even his _teeth_ to bring Blake to a shudderingly glorious orgasm..the product of which is settling in Ted’s stomach as his lover’s tongue flicks out to clean lips made glossy with Blake’s fluids; it’s absolutely filthy and unbearably erotic. What happens next makes his previous actions seem tame in comparison – Ted settles between Blake’s spread legs and masturbates to climax, reaching out to cup Blake’s balls and lift them up and out of the way. “Oh, yeah… _yeah_ …” Ted groans out his pleasure and Blake feels the hot spurts of ejaculate coat his still dilated hole; then, Ted uses his own come as lube to push into Blake’s body for a few final thrusts that empty his balls. “ _Fuck_ , that’s good.”

They collapse together and Blake is gratified to see that Ted is finally too tired to try for anything else. “Might I suggest bathing before either of us sleep?”

“You can suggest whatever the hell you want. I ain’t movin’,” Ted yawns, nuzzling at him. Curiously, he moves beneath Blake’s arm for a cuddle despite his earlier shows of dominance. “I want you back in that big-ass bed, first thing,” his young lover mumbles sleepily.

Blake turns to kiss the top of Ted’s head, dark strands of hair ticking his nose as he does it. “You’ll have to say _please_ , Admiral Ares.”

He can feel Ted’s lips curve in a smile against his skin. “No.”


	9. Goodbye, composure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corporal Holden finally wins a round, and Ted reconnects with part of his past...hopefully it will help him with his new problem concerning Jeffrey Blake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I’ll remember how to actually spell Corazza consistently but it’s not today and tomorrow doesn’t look good, either.

Ted hasn’t spent the night with anyone in years, probably since before he left Pandora, so waking up next to Jeffrey Blake is…well, it’s just weird. Conquering the impulse to leap out of the bed, Ted keeps his eyes closed and listens to Blake’s breathing change as the other man wakes up. He hears the tender murmur of the name Blake insists upon calling him now, and feels fingers gently combing through his hair.

“Good morning, my dear,” Blake says.

He opens his eyes to find Blake propped up on an elbow, gazing down at him. “Hey.” The normally severe lines of Blake’s face are softened by a smile, which deepens as Ted gives into the temptation to reach a hand up to trace Blake’s jawline. “Everything good?”

Blake’s deep hum of agreement sends a shiver down Ted’s spine, straight to his morning wood. “I believe that it is.”

“Last night was…nice,” Ted ventures, not really sure where they’re supposed to go from here.

“Yes, it certainly was,” Blake says pleasantly. “Do you have a busy day planned?”

Ted tries to think of the schedule Holden had drawn up for him, but Blake’s free hand is moving purposefully down Ted’s abdomen to clasp the object of his search. “It can wait,” he manages, rolling his hips up into Blake’s rhythmic strokes.

“That is wonderful news. Would you mind terribly if I…?” Blake makes a slight gesture towards his mouth, smiling when Ted shakes his head wordlessly. “Oh, good.”

The covers are folded back, Blake’s fist still pumping him steadily. Ted watches, still wondering how he was able to deserve any of this, as the other man leans down over Ted’s crotch. Blake’s always immaculately-combed head of pale blond hair is a fascinating mess this early in the morning, but Ted stops thinking about pretty much _everything_ as Blake parts his lips. He groans helplessly at the pleasure of having his cock sucked, because Blake definitely knows what he’s doing. Ted can feel the back of Blake’s throat, the contraction when Blake’s gag reflex is triggered…and a finger gently stroking a part of Ted’s body where he’s not a fan of being touched. “Whoa, now; nuh-uh,” he protests sharply, bringing a hand up to punch the side of Blake’s head if he doesn’t stop.

Blake pauses immediately, sitting up as Ted scrambles back against the headboard. “Did I do something wrong?” 

Ted looks at him closely, wondering if this is all an act. Surely Blake should _know_ , but he’s really looking right back at Ted like he’s confused. “I don’t…I mean, I ain’t into…that.”

“I beg your pardon? Not into what?”

“You know, what you were doin’ with…with your, uh. Your hand,” Ted tries to explain, hating that he feels embarrassed and that Blake can tell. “I don’t like it.”

Blake is looking at him like he’s gone insane. “With my hand? What was I doing with – ah,” he says in realization, and Ted’s not sure what’s worse: Blake’s earlier cluelessness, or the pity in his voice right now. “Oh, love. I am so sorry; I truly should have known better.”

“I gotta go, there’s…stuff,” Ted blurts, needing to be just about anywhere else, and he uses his implant to teleport back to his own bedroom. Which is Blake’s bedroom, too, and the place where he’d already demanded that Blake move back into. “ _Shit_.” Grabbing up a spare uniform, Ted showers hurriedly and would teleport right out of the Atlas Campus altogether but he can’t gather his thoughts enough to focus on a particular destination. All Ted can do is power walk right past a bathrobe-swathed Blake with his eyes on the floor and head turned away, hoping that neither of them have to actually say anything to each other.

Holden is waiting with an ECHOpad clutched to her chest, and Ted cuts her off when she tries to speak. “Not now, Corporal.”

“Good morning to you, too, sir,” she says, quickening her steps to keep up with him. “Your first appointment is the barracks inspection tour. The Dahl representative is here to see you, but I told him you weren’t interested in negotiation. The armory is supposed to start stocking the new Corazza weapons, so I’ve got you scheduled-”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ _say_ ‘not now’? Was that or was that not my mouth movin’ and lettin’ those words out?” Ted demands, stopping when his mind replays the words that _Holden_ has just let out. “Hang on. We got a _Dahl rep_ planetside and _you_ told ‘em…?”

‘Yes, Admiral. You yourself have stated numerous times-”

“God _damn_ it – where the hell are they?” Unbelievable, Ted thinks, effectively distracted from his earlier woes. They’ve got a blockade to contend with and Dahl has sent someone, but his staff have decided to send the representative _away_? No wonder Promethea’s knee-deep in it! “Take me there, right now.”

“Yes, sir,” his adjutant sighs, as if actually doing her job is the biggest burden on the planet. “He’s just up ahead in the Courtyard of Innovation.” 

She yelps in surprise when Ted hooks her ECHOpad out from beneath her arms, intent upon clearing the rest of his schedule manually. Ted finds out why she hadn’t wanted him to take it as soon as he flips it over and has a look at the screen - _Meeting with DAHL Captain Larsen Phinneas_ is the only item on the morning’s agenda, and he’s just been manipulated into demanding to do it. They stare at each other as the lift platform descends to the main level; Ted can’t change his tune and refuse now, and Holden knows it. “I’ll kill you,” he says calmly.

“Can’t wait, sir.”

Unbe _lieve_ able.

He’s irritated enough to forego the usual procedure of checking the guy’s file before going in there, which isn’t the best idea Ted’s ever had. The man looks like Dahl standard issue; average height, average build, below average intelligence. What _isn’t_ average is the way Captain Phinneas is staring at him, with a mixture of hatred and fear in his eyes…and there’s a lot more hatred than he’s used to seeing. “Captain,” Ted says courteously.

“Blanco,” Phinneas says shortly, eyes widening slightly as he takes in Ted’s appearance. Holden bristles at his disrespectful tone, subsiding when Ted glances at her. “I’ll keep this short; we’re not leaving, which means your fleet – what’s _left_ of it – isn’t leaving, either.”

Ted sits down on the other side of the table, lacing his fingers together. “You can stay as long as you’d like but if you really think your little blockade is stopping anyone, you’ve lost your mind.” He looks closely at the man. “I’d ask you to go ahead and tell me what the posturing is about, but it’s fairly clear. How many, and where?”

Captain Phinneas’ jaw tightens. “You don’t remember, of course. Why would you?”

“Precisely,” Ted replies calmly. “Why _would_ I? I’ve never moved on a target because of a vendetta, Captain. I expect that you yourself aren’t allowed to come and go as _you_ please, either.”

“Four. _Four_ , you fucking bastard,” Phinneas snarls, leaping to his feet. “You can hide behind as many stars as you want, but I can see what’s behind them-” he breaks off as Holden pulls her sidearm on him.

Ted leans back in his chair. “You might want to sit back down if you’d rather not be Number Five. She looks like she’s in a bad mood.” He motions, and Holden lowers the gun.

“Go fuck yourself, _Ares_. You can gather all the plastic surgeons you want, but even they can’t remove all the blood that’s on your hands. We’re done here,” the captain says, nearly upending his chair as he slams his way out of the conference room.

“Have a safe trip,” Ted calls out, lifting his boots up to the edge of the table and leaning back even further. Glancing over, he meets his adjutant’s eyes. “That went well.”

“For what it’s worth, he was never going to agree to anything you had to say,” Holden tells him. “He’ll go back to make his report and you’d better believe that he’s not going to tell anyone that he was about two seconds away from pissing himself.”

“Didn’t we have intel on what to expect?”

She shakes her head. “Sorry, sir. Division files were removed from the mainframe years ago – nobody really knows why.”

 _He_ probably does, Ted thinks, but he can’t even remember why Blake would think he would want…anyway. His memory is becoming more and more of a problem. “Well, that’s just great. One of the only ways to get rid of that blockade without declarin’ all-out war on Dahl, and they send down _that_ dude. How the hell was I s’posed to remember that I fuckin’…gunned down his Meemaw or some shit?” He sits down and tilts his head back, closing his eyes. “What _else_ can go wrong today?”

Holden clears her throat delicately. “Admiral? I know it’s none of my business, but…have you considered going to see Doctor Vargas?”

“Since I don’t even remember who the hell that is, why would I have considered that?”

“She’s the trauma counselor,” she says, rushing to explain when his eyes fix on her in warning. “She’s also worked with one of the young privates who had memory loss after a training accident. It couldn’t hurt to try…could it, sir?”

“What else’re you tryin’ to trick me into doin’ today?” Ted asks, deliberately changing the subject.

It turns out that the barracks inspection wasn’t just something she’d made up on the fly, so he decides to just get it over with as quickly as possible. The men and women of the Lance don’t need him snooping around their living quarters - it’s more about morale than anything else.

The tour gets him thinking about fraternization amongst the ranks, and the systemic abuse that had inadvertently led to his…issues…with Blake. Ted knows as much as anyone that it’s not enough to simply announce a zero-tolerance policy; there’s always going to be someone, somewhere that finds a work around by cowing their victims into silence. “Holden. Let’s walk.”

“Sir?” She moves up beside him as they leave the last building.

“The regs concerning abuse of authority…how’re they bein’ enforced?”

Holden sighs. “Well, we’ve made sure every company here knows it won’t be tolerated, set up an anonymous reporting system, things like that. There have been a few reports.”

“Sounds like someone’s gettin’ away with it.”

“That’s exactly what it sounds like, Admiral, but I’ll be damned if we can figure out how to make the catch. Senior officers have the comm frequencies of their juniors so even if a report is made anonymously…there’s always some way it could be traced back to the source. Walk-in meetings could be tracked.”

Ted thinks hard. “What about shufflin’ everyone around?”

“Something like you did last year?”

“Yeah, _exactly_ like that thing I did that I can’t recall,” he tells her. Holden explains about the restructuring he’d done and Ted can see the possibilities of it. It doesn’t seem as though he’d done it with the intention of isolating predators from their prey, but it _should_ work if they seed enough of the groups with informants. The only problem with _that_ is finding people who are actually trustworthy. “You’ve been here long enough – got any ideas for recruits?”

Holden promises to send him a list, and they draw up a plan to randomize the selection process before Ted sends her off to begin working on it.

He teleports to the nearest Catch-a-Ride, intent upon getting some distance between himself and his duties for a few minutes, and flashes back into existence right beside Lieutenant Colonel Ballard. “Admiral! Great to see you, sir,” the other man says, hand lifting in a salute that Ted stops with a slight gesture so that Ballard’s hand is left hovering in mid-air. “I was hoping to run into you, actually.”

Ted barely manages to swallow his annoyed growl. “Why’s that.” He starts keying in his access code, intent upon getting a Lancer, but it’s not working. 

“The, uh, the system here doesn’t support those models anymore,” Ballard coughs discretely. “And your code is different…allow me, sir?”

“Be my guest,” Ted says, waving his hand at the keypad.

Ballard gets him a weird, loud, and huge…thing…with a skag catcher on the front of it. And then he climbs in the passenger seat of it. “Don’t mind me, Admiral. Just pretend that I’m not here.”

“Be easier to do that if you weren’t really here; get outta there.”

“Sorry, but I will not be doing that.” The other man looks around to make sure they’re unobserved, then leans across the seat. “Here’s the deal, Admiral: whether you like it or not, you are the glue holding Promethea together. There are exactly zero generals, which means that none of us can even begin to step into the breach if something else were to happen to you. I understand that you’d like some time to yourself and there’s nobody here who deserves it more…but you cannot _be_ by yourself until you _are_ yourself. Again; I am very sorry, but I will be going with you.”

Ted glares at him, but Ballard is clearly not moving. “You’ll go in the back, or not at all.” As soon as Ballard’s ass touches the seat, Ted reaches out to the still-lit screen and taps in a request for another vehicle on the neighboring digistruct pad. “See ya later.” Leaping into the driver’s seat, Ted hits the Boost and roars off. 

The colonel’s yell of “ _Sir!_ ” rings out far behind him.

He’s not really surprised when Ballard gives chase, but Ted _is_ surprised to find that he’s actually enjoying himself. 

Ted cuts through to Neon Arterial, leading Ballard through an impromptu obstacle course by weaving through abandoned crates and clusters of ratch – when his subordinate thinks he’s gaining ground, however, Ted slams his own truck into a hover (Lancers never did _that_ ) and Ballard goes past at full speed…allowing Ted enough time to turn around and race off in the other direction. 

Ballard catches back up to him during one of the turns through the Spillways, yelling something as their vehicles go up and over another ramp. Ted laughs as the truck goes high enough that his ass leaves the seat momentarily, and looks over to see how the colonel is faring. Ballard’s knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel, clearly not sure whether to scream or vomit, and Ted decides to take pity on him.

Skidding to a halt, he leans an arm on the door and waits for the other truck to park next to him. “So. What d’you want?”

“Right now I just want to know how Mister Blake keeps putting up with your shit.” Ballard glares at him. “ _Sir_.”

The reminder that Blake still exists, and so does the…problem, causes Ted’s good mood to evaporate. “Get the _fuck_ outta here.”

“Not happening, Admiral. Maybe you’d like to just tell me what’s bothering you instead of being a fucking child who wants to sneak off and sulk in Fort Pissoff,” Ballard finally yells. “This sucks for _all_ of us, not just you! Grow the hell up!”

Before he can stop and think through his actions, Ted has teleported into the passenger seat of Ballard’s car and shoved the colonel’s face down against the steering wheel. The sound of the horn echoes off of the steep walls, startling him into laughter that distracts him from seeing Ballard’s fist until it’s too late. “Fuck,” Ted yells, clapping a hand against his nose. “That is _it_.”

“Bring it on, _Major_ ,” Ballard snarls back, still holding his own bloodied nose.

They both lunge for each other at the same time, grappling right there in the front seat. Someone’s elbow hits the door locks hard enough to disengage them and they spill out on the ground, still fighting. It doesn’t do Ted’s temper any good that the fucker is actually able to keep up with him, which means that Ted himself has trained Ballard at some point in the past. 

Future.

Whatever. 

He’s just rolled Ballard beneath one of the cars and is knocking the asshole’s head up against the tires when Ted comes to the slow realization that he’s been unconsciously pulling his punches so that he won’t _really_ hurt the colonel. Ballard gets him in the stomach and scrambles back out into the open and they circle each other, bouncing on their toes and feinting to test defenses. “Feel better, sir?”

“Fuck off,” Ted replies, glancing up at one of the relay towers before darting forward and seizing Ballard’s neck before teleporting. They come out of it in mid-air, where Ted hooks the back of his uniform on one of the tower struts and ‘ports back down to the ground. 

“ _Admiral_!” Ballard screams, flailing helplessly. “Get me _down_!”

“How _you_ feelin’?” He calls back mockingly. “I should just leave you up there ‘til someone comes lookin’ for your ass.”

“Fuck! Let me down, oh my _god!_ I fucking _hate_ you!”

“Now, now – is that any way to talk t’your superior officer?” Ted climbs up on the hood of his truck and rests back against the windshield with his arms behind his head. From this vantage point, he can watch Ballard freak out from the corner of his eye and still see Meridian just fine. “You gotta know you just fucked your entire career up.”

Ballard hollers at him some more. “I’ve put up with your shit for _years_! I’m entitled to it by now!”

Ted snorts and declines to answer. He already knows he’s not going to do anything to the guy and chances are that Ballard knows it, too…but Ted doesn’t have to _tell_ him that. “What d’you know about that Doctor Vargas?” he asks instead.

“Let me down and I’ll tell you.”

“It looks like you’re havin’ too much of a good time for me to let you down yet, so spill it. Where’d she come from?”

“I’m not good with heights, sir, _please_!”

Well, Ted guesses that it was fun while it lasted; he’d better go get the man before he has an accident. Teleporting up, he seizes Ballard and brings them both back down where Ballard gets him with a kidney punch that drops him to one knee…and the world goes white as Ted’s outstretched hand hits the ground to steady himself. His head feels like it’s going to split apart and he can’t hear Ballard through the roaring in his ears, even though his returning sight shows that the colonel’s mouth is moving soundlessly. “…help? Sir, I need you to _answer me_ -”

Ted shakes his head, staggering to his feet. “No, I’m…it’s good,” he says, frowning as he tries to take stock and try to figure what had just happened. 

“What was that? We should get you back to the infirmary,” Ballard says, still sounding worried. “I’m so sorry, Admiral, I just-”

Waving his companion’s objections aside, Ted slowly climbs back up on the Technical. Huh. So _that’s_ what these trucks were called. “You just grew a spine, Byco. Too late to take that kinda thing back.”

Ballard pauses. “ _Sir_?”

“What? Oh,” Ted says in realization. “That’s…interesting.”

“I don’t suppose you remember who killed you,” Ballard says, moving forward quickly.

His headache is making it hard for him to think, but Ted forces himself to try…and it’s odd, because he can actually remember things that he shouldn’t know. Except that he’s supposed to know it because the older version of himself knows it. There are flashes of memory from his own quarters; he’s buying coffee, but he dumps his into the sink instead of drinking it. Blake, reaching out to touch his face and the feeling of overwhelming dread because Blake is going to leave him. A transport ship, and an out-flung arm from behind a counter.

A knife in his side, his knees on the ground.

And absolutely nothing else.

“No,” Ted says slowly. “There was a…a _hand_. I saw it, and then…”

“That was the duty officer. Lieutenant Carver.”

Ballard points out that Ted has at least remembered something, which is better than nothing, which is…pretty fucking obvious. Ted sends him into Fort Pissoff (and remembers when the place used to be called SubStation Echo, back in the day) for an InstaHealth to help with the headache, and settles back against the Technical’s windshield to think about Blake.

Where there had been a blank slate, now is…something. Ted still can’t tell Blake that he loves him, and actually mean it, yet he _knows_ the kind of man Blake is. The warmth he’s always felt whenever he sees Blake smile, laugh, or just _stand_ there now has context – the history is right there in Ted’s skull. 

Ted sits up as he thinks of what he’d told Blake that very morning, that he wasn’t ‘into that.’ It’s beyond strange for him to realize that he _is_ , in fact, ‘into that’ – and he seems to enjoy every single moment of it. His face grows hot as his faulty memory provides him with a vivid example of exactly what he does with Blake, and he struggles to reconcile Old Ted’s enjoyment of it with what he’d suffered at the hands of the generals he’d murdered.

With the good, however, Ted can also remember the bad…it’s no wonder that Zed had told him to get himself to a therapist.

Ballard comes back to find him sitting cross-legged on the other Technical’s hood, staring thoughtfully at the Meridian skyline. “Here you go, sir,” the other man says, passing over the InstaHealth. “Ready to go back, or did you still need some time?”

Ted accepts the needle and injects himself with it, rolling his shoulders as the medicine relieves his headache _and_ his sore nose. “We’ll take this one to the pads; you can drive me back to Campus…after you do somethin’ about that eye. I got you pretty good, Byco.”

“You should have seen _your_ eye, you mean old bastard.” 

Ballard really _is_ entitled to it by now, so Ted lets it slide. Besides, it’s kind of refreshing to actually have someone else around him who isn’t scared to tell him like it is – his adjutant is slowly but surely working up to it. Stifling a smile at the thought of the trick she’d played on him earlier, Ted’s thoughts swing right back to Jeffrey Blake.

He’s not sure how he’ll broach the subject when he gets back, but they’ve definitely got to talk about it – Ted had been an asshole when Blake had only wanted to please him. The thought of letting anyone, even Blake, fuck him makes Ted sick to his stomach…yet the actual memories of it are the exact opposite. How, then, had he made the transition back to actually enjoying it? How can he expect Blake to bend over for him when he won’t extend the same courtesy? How can he want it and _not_ want it at the same time?

Ballard, sensing his mood, stays quiet on the drive back to Meridian and pulls over at the entrance to the Atlas Campus. “I’ve got some ideas on how to fill that power vacuum, sir. Do you have any time tomorrow?”

“Check with my babysitter; she’ll get you in.”

“Oh, Corporal Holden? Yes sir, I’ll check with her,” Ballard says with a gleam in his eye that Ted recognizes.

Despite his urgency to find Blake, Ted pauses before getting out of the Technical. “For real? _Holden_?”

“I don’t suppose you could-”

“I ain’t a datin’ service, you goddamned mess. You want in that girl’s drawers, you can ask her yourself if she’ll take you - and I’ll tell her to say no. Get outta here,” Ted says, rolling his eyes.

Blake is sitting on their couch watching something on the ECHOnet as he comes in, and Ted watches how Blake looks over at him before reaching to mute the screen. “You’re home early today…is that _blood_ on your face?”

Ted lifts his hand to feel at his nose. “Oh. Yeah, there was a…fight.”

“A _fight_ ,” Blake says, standing up and moving over to him. “With whom? Are you hurt, love?”

Reaching out slowly, Ted takes one of Blake’s hands in his and examines the long, thin fingers. “It’s fine. I, uh. I remembered some more things, is all. Not everything I wanted,” he says hurriedly upon seeing the hope in Blake’s eyes. “Just some. Were…were you gonna _leave_ me?”

Blake’s face goes slack with shock. “I beg your pardon? _Leave_ you? Why would you _ever_ have thought a thing like that?”

“Believe it or not, I ain’t the easiest t’be with. And some of what I remembered, well…I remember bein’ scared that you’d go.”

“No,” Blake says, using Ted’s hold on his hands to pull Ted closer. “Never. My place is at your side.”

His voice goes lower, so smooth and deep that Ted can’t even form his next few thoughts. With an effort, he clears his throat. “This mornin’, I didn’t mean-”

“The fault is mine,” Blake tells him, his voice still sinking barbed hooks of desire deep beneath Ted’s skin. “I should have remembered that your experiences were far too fresh.”

“Those memories…had a few where we, we did some stuff,” Ted admits. “I don’t want it but I also really, _really_ do… you know what I mean? So I dunno. Maybe you could, uh, help me figure out if I really _am_ into it. If you wanted.”

“You seem as though you’ve given this some thought. If it is what you truly want, we can certainly try it. There _will_ have to be a few rules,” Blake purrs up at him.

Ted is so hard, it hurts. “I can’t even think with you talkin’ at me like that. What d’you mean, _rules._ ”

Blake smiles and leans in for a brief kiss that he twists away from when Ted would deepen it. “First of all, my dear, you must enter into this…bargain…with your wits about you. I won’t have you regretting any of it because you were lost in a lustful haze and unsure of what you agreed to.”

“I got my wits together just fine-”

“Theodore, your entire blood supply is currently between your legs; there is nothing left for your brain. I will not touch you until your powers of cognition return so either you can think of the most hideous sexual partner fate could ever inflict upon you…” Blake leans in again to brush his lips against Ted’s “…or you can drop your trousers right here and stroke yourself to completion. I know which one _I_ would prefer to watch.”

In the end, Ted thinks, it isn’t really a choice at all.


	10. Practicing Perfection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake helps Ted get over his well-founded reluctance before they terrorize the staff at Dynasty Diner, and Ted comes face-to-face with a figure from his not-so-distant past. The author goes wild with dashes and italics.

Settling back on the couch and watching an ECHOnet program while your beautiful young lover is staring at you is one thing…but doing it while he’s actively masturbating is quite another, Blake thinks to himself. He’s trying to preserve the illusion that he’s _not_ watching avidly, because all it will take is the slightest look of invitation and Blake will lose his resolve entirely.

His treacherous eyes drift from the screen over to Ted, standing there with his legs splayed and his fist working furiously. Ted’s expression holds a mixture of lust and slowly eroding determination, because Blake is deliberately not giving him much to work with...but he decides that the poor thing could use _some_ encouragement. Turning the screen off, Blake glances over. “For heaven’s sake, Theodore. Come over here before you suffer an aneurysm.”

Ted arrives quickly enough that Blake wonders if he’s used his personal teleportation implant again. “Can we-”

“ _No_ , we cannot,” Blake says tartly. “Please remove your jacket and whatever is beneath it.” He looks on as Ted does as requested and is left to stand there, waiting. Blake’s gaze travels across the musculature of Ted’s bare chest, covered in its thick coat of dark hair, and down to the swollen cock jutting out from the opening of the pants pushed low on his hips. Blake swallows with difficulty, wishing he hadn’t said that Ted should relieve his sexual frustration – he longs to kneel down and wrap his lips around the velvety smooth skin of Ted’s shaft, suckling while Ted comes apart beneath his ministrations. “You’ve no idea how delicious you look,” he sighs, glancing back up into Ted’s eyes.

“You could tell me,” Ted says hoarsely.

“I suppose that I could, at that.” Blake smiles, leaning back against the cushions. “I am looking forward to touching you, beautiful boy. Having you spread out beneath me like a feast laid out on the sheets…because I want my mouth on every inch of you. _Everywhere_ , until your back arches while you come. I’ve always loved how you look in those moments; wild and vulnerable at the same time. Touch yourself for me, now.”

Ted wets his lips with his tongue and reaches down to curl his fingers around his dick. Blake bites down on the inside of his mouth at the sight of Ted’s foreskin slipping back to expose the slick, swollen head. “Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have you inside my mouth right now,” he murmurs. “Faster now, my dear. That’s it. You are so very lovely to look at.” Blake sighs over the curve of Ted’s neck to the corded muscles in his arm and recounts what he’d liked best during their lovemaking the previous night. Ted moans in response to the praise, and Blake guides him towards climax using nothing but his voice.

When it’s clear that Ted can hold back no longer, Blake plucks the pocket square from his suit jacket and unfolds it onto his palm before holding it out. “Now, Theodore.”

Ted’s moans fill the room as he comes when prompted, spurting thick ropes of semen onto the offered handkerchief. “ _Fuck_ , Jeffrey,” he groans, his entire body shuddering as another spasm hits. “That was so fuckin’ hot.”

“We at Corazza aim to please,” Blake says in comic mimicry of the taglines he’d come up with for Hyperion. “Now, I sincerely hope you do not mind if I just…” still holding the soiled piece of linen, Blake leans forward and takes Ted’s cock into his mouth because he’ll die if he has to wait any longer for a taste. Besides, he _is_ fulfilling his promise not to physically interfere until Ted climaxes. He swirls his tongue along the thick shaft gently, effectively cleaning it of any remaining fluids before drawing back. “Mmm.” 

“No wonder I like you so much,” Ted says breathlessly, struggling out of his remaining clothes and letting Blake lead him to their bedroom. “Want me to suck you?”

Blake smiles at the offer and shakes his head. “Not right now, love. Wait for me on the bed, would you kindly?” He gets undressed slowly, trying to plan his campaign of seduction. When he’d first made love to Ted, Ted hadn’t needed preparation for it at all aside from enough lubrication. Now Blake needs to find a way to reintroduce the man he loves to the pleasures that had been twisted into the worst kind of abuse. “If you need me to stop at any time, please know that I will heed your wishes.”

Ted has seated himself cross-legged on the bed they’ve not shared in weeks, and is watching impatiently as Blake carefully folds his clothing. “Just throw it on the floor.”

“No, I will not do that,” he chides. 

Approaching the bed, Blake smiles at Ted’s frank, lustful appraisal of his body. Settling amongst the blankets, he beckons Ted over for a kiss; without feeling the urgency he’d experienced just minutes earlier, Ted is relaxed enough to allow Blake’s hands to explore his body. 

They tumble onto the mattress together, and Blake is careful to ensure that he remains beneath Ted’s body where he’s less apt to be viewed as threatening. “Every part of you is simply breathtaking,” Blake sighs, running his hands across Ted’s shoulders.

“You ain’t bad, yourself,” Ted says, shivering when Blake’s hands glide past his ribs and down to his thighs. “Um, I’m not too sure about this angle.”

“Whatever you would like,” Blake assures him. “This is about you.”

Ted looks slightly uncomfortable. “Maybe I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

“I am glad that you did, dear one. There was a time when I had been mistreated and _you_ were the one to help me past it,” Blake says, knowing somehow that it’s something that Ted needs to hear. “It would be my honor to help you rediscover the joys that lovemaking can truly hold.”

“I, um. I remember that it’s always real good, when we’re together,” Ted says huskily. “I wanna make a newer memory of it.”

Blake uses his thumbs to trace Ted’s cut lines, making the younger man shiver. “Of course.”

Ted decides that he’ll be more comfortable if both of them were lying on their sides to begin with, so they rearrange themselves. Blake leans in and they kiss slowly while their passions rise. Ted moans against his mouth as Blake begins to explore Ted’s body anew, interspersing light touches with rougher squeezes that Ted arches into almost involuntarily – it’s as if Ted’s body has remembered exactly what he likes and has simply forgotten to inform his brain.

They go slowly, and very carefully – for despite Ted’s eagerness, Blake can’t lose sight of the fact that the hesitance is still there and he would die before he ever violated Ted’s trust in this way or any other. 

He keeps his hands on the parts of Ted’s body that aren’t the usual erogenous zones, and Ted finally grows impatient with Blake’s caution. Curling his fingers around Blake’s wrist, Ted brings the captured hand down where he wants it. 

Blake smiles against Ted’s lips and circles his index finger around the tip of Ted’s cock, then taps the sensitive spot just beneath the head. “Do you like this?” He taps again, rubbing briefly while Ted groans.

“Harder,” he’s ordered.

“Oh, I do _not_ think so.” 

Blake teases with deft touches until Ted is practically roaring in frustration, and then provides greater stimulation by wrapping his hand around Ted’s length. Blake gives him a few firm strokes, which are loudly appreciated, and alternates them with gentler tugs on Ted’s balls – it’s not the best angle he’d ever had to work with, and Blake is just about to suggest that they move when Ted rolls back on top of him. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t want this to be something you are _dreading_ , Theodore.”

“I’m tryin’ not to be nervous, but I think I’m just psychin’ myself out even more,” Ted confesses. 

Blake had something else in mind, yet if the waiting is making Ted anxious, perhaps it _is_ time that they get this over with. “This is about pleasing _you_ , love, and ensuring that _you_ are the one in control…so what if your participation were more active?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Put your hands around my throat. The moment you decide that I am going too far, I expect you’ll let me know…one way or the other.”

“You want me to _choke_ you?” 

“What I _want_ is for you to feel _safe_.” Blake reaches up to cup Ted’s jaw lovingly. “Shall we try?”

“I don’t wanna hurt you-”

“Then don’t.”

He hasn’t felt hands around his neck since just before Ted had left for Lectra City. Ted’s fingers curl around his throat hesitantly at first, then the grip tightens when Blake runs a hand over Ted’s hip. “Go on,” Ted prompts.

Blake takes Ted’s cock in his left hand, pumping slowly, while the right hand reaches back to the sensitive stretch of skin just behind Ted’s balls. His fingertips brush against the tight ring of muscle, and Ted’s grip tightens reflexively but it’s clear that this isn’t the best solution. “I don’t think this is working,” Blake says, moving his hand away to rub at Ted’s hip. There’s no possible way anything’s going to be done about Ted’s skittishness if Ted is constantly bracing himself for it, yet he doesn’t want anything to come as a surprise, either. “Your body simply won’t allow it and you _must_ relax for this to be successful.”

Ted draws away from him, expression guarded. “Let’s just forget it.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, either, love. However, I know what _is_.” Blake holds out his hand for Ted to take, and leads his young lover into the bathroom. Ted watches him add more hot water to the constantly circulating water of the bathing pool.

“Your big solution is…takin’ a _bath_?”

“Yes,” Blake says. “Join me.”

Rather than simply trying again immediately, Blake washes himself and encourages Ted to do the same before making his approach. The warmth of the water does its usual work of helping arousal along, and Ted has almost completely relaxed by the time Blake eases a hand down below the water. “Okay, this ain’t all bad,” Ted admits, his breath hitching. He makes no attempt to stop Blake’s fingers from rubbing against him before pressing in gently. 

“I agree,” Blake says, leaning in to bite at the column of Ted’s neck. The tip of one of his fingers slips inside and Blake massages carefully, making Ted gasp and clutch at him. He casts a quick glance over at the basket of toiletries they keep nearby and notes that the bottle of lubricant is still there, then concentrates on making sure that Ted will actually want him to retrieve it.

He proceeds to shamelessly utilize the effect that he _knows_ his voice has on Ted, teasing with quick flutters of his fingertips and calculated groping beneath the water. It’s not long at all before Ted has all but forgotten his earlier misgivings and wants more of what Blake has to offer. “I want-”

“Up on the edge, Theodore,” Blake says, reaching out for the bottle as Ted lifts himself out of the water. Ted’s hands clamp around Blake’s skull to bring it between his legs, and Blake drops the bottle to wrap his arms around Ted’s hips. He takes Ted’s cock into his mouth eagerly, sucking firmly and letting Ted guide his head up and down. His own dick is hard and aching, and Blake presses it against the bathing pool’s liner in a desperate attempt to ease his suffering. He’s had his desire thwarted at least two separate times due to the trauma that Ted’s superior officers had inflicted upon him, and Blake’s starting to think that he’ll go mad if his body can’t finish what was started.

Blake gradually frees one hand to reach for the lubricant and is able to get the cap off. He coats his fingers, reaching between Ted’s widely spread legs. “Oh, fuck,” Ted groans as Blake slowly slides a finger inside his body. “Go faster.”

“No,” Blake says as Ted’s hands fall away to seize the edge of the pool. “Be patient.”

“No,” Ted returns, head falling back when Blake adds the other finger. Blake takes Ted’s cock back into his mouth, feeling the thick length twitch against his tongue. “ _Fuck_.”

He’s always felt pride in bringing Ted pleasure, especially since Blake’s never truly understood why Ted had chosen him in the first place, but he’s never felt more satisfaction than he does now. Ted’s hands are tangled in Blake’s hair as Blake finger-fucks him into a writhing mess, and Blake doesn’t think he’s ever been this aroused. Blake moans around the cock filling his mouth and moves his hand faster, feeling his arm begin to cramp. 

Ted’s eyes are wild as Blake looks up at him. “Get up here.”

“Love, I hardly think that-”

“ _Now_ ,” Ted demands.

This time, Blake no longer has the self-control to say no. He lurches up out of the water and fumbles with the bottle of lubricant, making sure that both of them have enough before grasping Ted’s hips. Ted reaches down to help, his breathing shallow and not at all steady. They both groan as Blake’s cock breaches Ted’s entrance, widening it before the tip of it is fully inside and Ted’s whole body shudders in response. “Are…are you…?”

Ted clamps down on him hard enough to make him see stars. “I could come right now,” Ted moans, another tremor shivering through his body. 

He’s not the only one, Blake thinks dazedly. He doesn’t remember Ted _ever_ feeling this tight, and the sensation is driving him mad. “You feel so _good_ ,” he sighs, pushing in deeper. He can feel Ted’s nails biting into his skin to create the beginnings of welts. “I won’t be able to control myself.”

“Then - _oooh_ \- then don’t,” Ted replies, leaving another set of indentations on Blake’s skin.

They’re both excited enough not to care that neither of them look very graceful at the moment, hunched over the edge of the bathing pool as they are. All that matters is the sensations that they’re sharing. Blake braces himself and pulls Ted closer as he thrusts quickly, feeling his body tighten in response to his looming orgasm. 

Ted’s body goes rigid and those beautiful green eyes go wide an instant before Ted reaches climax, tightening around Blake with exquisite pressure. Blake sheathes himself in his lover’s body a final time, the powerful spasms of Ted’s muscles bringing him off with a pleasure so sharp that it’s nearly painful. “My beautiful boy,” he gasps. “Oh, my love.”

They somehow make it back into the water without being injured and Ted leans his head back against the rim of the pool, breathing deeply as he shudders. “That was…that was so fuckin’ _good_ ,” he says with a sigh. “Didn’t think it could be like that.”

Blake is still struggling to regulate his own breathing; he feels as if he’s just run a race. “It can be even better if we take our time. Not that I am complaining.”

Ted closes his eyes with a grin. “You better not be.” His eyes pop open again as a thought hits him, and Ted sits up in the water. “Which one of me d’you like best? The old-ass one, or the me that’s here right now?”

“I have now known you in three separate variations,” Blake says, “and while each has much to recommend him, I couldn’t possibly choose because they’re all components of a whole.”

“Seems like you’re really into wholes,” Ted replies immediately.

“I also seem to have an unfortunate passion for men whose sense of humor leaves much to be desired.” Blake smiles as Ted’s eyes widen in mock-outrage. “Now, about that fight you mentioned earlier…”

“Oh, Byco was just tryin’ it,” Ted says casually, and Blake is stunned at how much has come back to him – if Ted has remembered this much, surely it’s only a matter of time before he remembers everything _else_. “Hey, you wanna go get some food?”

“I would like that. It’s a bit late for the lunch special at the Dynasty Diner, but I’ve promised to bring you there.”

Ted reaches for the soap. “Yeah, okay. Is the food any good?”

“Surprisingly enough, it is indeed. The proprietor chose a burger for me, and-”

“ _You_ ate a burger? Like, an actual one?”

“As opposed to a fake? Yes, Theodore, an actual burger. Why is it so hard to imagine?”

“You eat it with a knife and fork?” Ted asks interestedly.

“Stop that right now,” Blake says, standing up and reaching for the nearest towel. “Be dressed and ready to leave in five minutes, or I will leave without you.”

Ted’s ready in two, and they leave the Campus side by side. “What exactly does it mean t’be the Corazza CEO these days? Where’d you base production?” Ted asks as they walk into the city.

Blake slips a hand into the crook of Ted’s elbow, glancing over at DeWitt and shaking his head. The Master Sergeant shakes his in return and keeps following them. “I don’t actually have a production line – the patents are all here, and Atlas R&D has been developing the prototypes as needed.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“I am happy where I am,” Blake says, tightening his grip on Ted’s arm. “The Diner is just ahead on the left.”

Beau nearly has a heart attack upon seeing whom Blake has brought into his establishment, ushering them to a private table with so much excited hand wringing and flapping that it’s a wonder that the man doesn’t take flight. Ted is very gracious about the whole ordeal, though Blake can tell exactly how amused his lover truly is, and Beau practically floats back to the kitchen after they ask him for the daily special. “He’s sure in a good mood,” Ted observes, finally allowing himself to smile. “It’s still hard t’get used to all this damn hero worship.”

“It has been a burden for you,” Blake says slowly. “I’ve often wondered if it had been a main factor of your depression.”

Ted looks thoughtful and taps his fingertips on the table. “Who was the one brought in Vargas? Was it you?”

“I had a great deal to do with it, yes.”

“So, she’s here…’cause of me.” Ted frowns. “Well, I guess most of us are fucked up enough t’need therapy.”

Blake has the distinct feeling that Ted is trying to work up to asking if he should still visit Doctor Vargas even if he’s no longer intimately associated with many of his own traumas. “There isn’t a soul on this planet who would think less of you for accepting help, dear one. On the contrary; that you are strong enough to request aid shows what kind of leader you truly are. Why don’t we invite her to dinner, say, tomorrow evening? That way both of you have the chance to talk without any commitment.”

“Commitment? Well, I ain’t marryin’ her.”

“That is a profound relief,” Blake says drily. “Here is our food.”

Beau comes up to them with a massive tray, balancing it on one hand somehow as he begins to transfer the plates onto the table. “I know you asked for the Special, sir, but we just wanted you to have a little of everything just in case.”

Ted looks around at the plates covering the table in front of him. “I see that.”

“Try the burger,” Blake suggests. 

Beau draws back slightly in preparation for more hand-wringing as Ted snorts, then reaches out for the appropriate plate. Blake unwraps his own utensils and starts on his own meal, watching as Ted takes a bite…and halts mid-chew. Ted’s eyes narrow, moving from the burger in his hands to Beau’s face. “Is everything okay, Admiral?”

Ted swallows the food still in his mouth and places the burger back onto the plate. “You served this to him? The same….recipe…was used when _he_ ” Ted indicates Blake with a wave of his hand “came to eat here?”

“Um.” Beau wipes the sudden perspiration from his forehead. “Yes. Sir.”

“What is going on?” Blake asks.

“Food for the members of the garrison, or for me, is one thing. Food for _him_ is another,” Ted says, sounding as if he’s warning Beau about something before he raises his voice to a roar that could most likely be heard from orbit. “De _Witt!_ Front and center!”

DeWitt appears mere moments later. “Yes, sir.”

Ted looks back at Beau. “Where d’you get the meat?”

“I, uh – it…well, I have a…breeding…pen?”

“Hear that, Master Sergeant? He’s got himself a breeding pen. Do me a solid an’ make sure that ain’t code for ‘Outskirts ratch traps.’ Get one of your folks in the kitchen with him so he don’t ECHO ahead with a warning.” 

Blake has never been more confused. “Will someone _please_ tell me what’s happening?”

Ted dismisses the other men and turns back to him. “It’s a quality control thing. Can’t have you gettin’ sick from a bad batch, can I?”

“A bad batch of what, exactly?” Blake frowns. “What is so terrible about it?”

“This’s ratch meat,” Ted explains, pointing to his burger. “Which is about the last thing you need t’be eatin’.”

Blake shrugs and reaches for his fork. “Whatever it is, it can’t be as bad as fried scythid.”

“Whoa, now. _You_ ate scythid? On purpose?” Ted asks. 

“Yes. I’ve also eaten your ass on purpose, so there is no need to paint me as the dainty dandy you clearly seem to think I am,” Blake says evenly, ignoring the spluttering sounds on the other side of the table. “You’re forgiven for no other reason than momentary unfamiliarity with my background. An apology to Beau might be advisable, however.”

Ted shakes his head, laughing. “I dunno if I’ll ever get used to the fancy way you talk…or the things you say.”

“If it happened once, I’m sure it’s possible a second time,” Blake points out, and advises him to finish his meal.

Beau is given a reprieve when it’s discovered that he actually _does_ have designated breeding areas for the ratch he uses for food; although Blake notices that Ted declines to actually issue anything close to an apology, Dynasty Diner’s proprietor is pleased enough at Ted’s compliments that all seems forgiven. Blake is sure that Ted doesn’t care either way; Ted is still young enough to contain an astounding amount of arrogance.

They’re walking back to the Campus and winding their way through the usual crowd of off-duty soldiers when Ted suddenly stops dead in his tracks, a strangely intent look on his face. “Theodore?” Blake asks. Turning to see what Ted is looking at, he follows Ted’s line of sight directly towards someone he hasn’t seen in quite some time. “Isn’t that your previous adjutant? What was his name, Keith…?”

“Leith,” Ted says. “Sergeant Leith.”

“Yes, that’s right. Did you want to go speak with him? I don’t think he’s noticed us.” 

Blake starts to lift a hand, intending upon calling out to the other man, but Ted reaches out to grasp his arm. “No, I…I think I’m gonna be sick. Let’s just get outta here.” 

He _is_ looking a bit pale, Blake notices. Ted turns quickly to move off in the opposite direction and Blake follows, concerned, as Ted stumbles to a halt. “Are you all right, love?” Ted has his hands pressed against his temples, and his breathing is quick and shallow. “ _Ted_.”

“Yeah,” Ted finally says, looking up.

“Are you all right?” Blake repeats himself softly. Ted has slumped against a wall and is suddenly moving like an old man. “What’s happened?”

Ted lowers his hands from his head, staring at his palms before looking at Blake again. “It’s…nothing, just a bad headache. There was somethin’ but then it just…I’ll be fine.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’m not sure how many of your health scares I can take - _you_ may be getting younger, but I am not.”

“I’m sorry,” Ted apologizes. He looks terrible. “I don’t mean t’be such trouble.”

Blake crouches down beside him, taking one of Ted’s hands in his own. “I’m afraid that we must agree to disagree on _that_ particular front, Theodore. Let’s get you back home so that you can rest.”

Wonder of all wonders, Ted doesn’t even try to argue.


	11. Emotional Support CEO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted’s having a hard time with therapy.

The headaches are happening more frequently. A slight pressure in the back of the head is the only warning Ted has, until white-hot needles punch through his skull and leave him disoriented; he’s learned how to conceal them from everyone but Blake, who always seems to know damned near everything.

Elena Vargas _also_ knows how to spot one of his headaches, which is a lot more annoying. Ted’s still not sure that he’s made the right choice by agreeing to see her. 

“How often do the headaches leave you with more pieces to the puzzle?” she asks him, transferring her staff to her other hand before using her arm to wipe the sweat from her forehead.

“About as often as you get anyone to trust you.” Ted wonders if she does this with everyone; he keeps picturing her flipping burgers at Dynasty Diner when Beau contacts her for an afternoon appointment. “Thought you’d want me t’park my ass in a chair and break down in tears while I tell you how hard I’ve got it.”

Vargas moves back into position, bringing her staff up. “If you want to do it that way, don’t let me stop you. Best out of five?”

“Why not?” Ted shifts his own staff, sinking down into ready stance. “Bring it, doc.” She darts in with a feint that wouldn’t fool a newborn baby and Ted knocks her staff away, bringing his around with enough force to knock her on her ass. “The fuck was that? You even tryin’?”

“Not all of us are trained Omega Assassins, Admiral.” 

He’s not sure why _that_ matters, because any idiot can- Ted rocks back on his heels as another piece of the puzzle, as Vargas puts it, slides into place. “I think we’re done here. You want someone to train you, just let Holden know. I got a planet to run.”

“This is when I remind you that you approached _me_. The only one who is wasting your time here, Ares, is _you_ ,” she points out. “Do you want to fully regain your memory, or not?”

Ted frowns, making a few flourishes of his staff before answering. “I hate this shit.”

“What, actually processing your emotions instead of resorting to snappy come-backs and backhanded insults?”

She’s got him there. “If I wanted t’be read for filth, I coulda just asked my adjutant.” He hesitates, digs the toe of his boot into the packed dirt of the arena floor. Everything about this goes against how he’s lived ever since he’d left Pandora…how he’s been _trained_ , Ted thinks. Isn’t that the root of the problem, though? He’s bucked a lot of Lance tradition so far – so why not do this, too? It’d be the ultimate ‘fuck you’ to the bastards he’d killed. “Where do I even _start_?”

“How about from the beginning?” Vargas offers. “You’ve had many new beginnings in your life – pick one of them, and let’s go from there.”

Ted spins the staff in his hands as he paces back and forth. He doesn’t want to tell her about his days as a new recruit; it’s bad enough that that’s one thing that he remembers like it was yesterday. He also wants to keep his memories about Blake private, as well; those are too precious to share with anyone. “We’re here ‘cause of Lectra City, so…I was there, right? I mean, I was _there_ and someone fucked with the New-U – then I saw a hand stickin’ out from behind the duty officer’s desk.”

“Close your eyes. Can you see it in your mind?”

Closing his eyes as directed and feeling stupid, Ted shrugs. “Uh…yeah, sure.”

“You’ve just noticed her hand on the floor; what goes through your mind first?”

“Um. We wasted an hour or so lookin’, so I felt like we could finally get it over with.” His knees on the ground, a knife in his side. _“I’m so sorry, sir…”_ Is he supposed to feel better about getting an apology? There was something else, though. What was it? An apology, and- “Blackmail,” Ted realizes, opening his eyes. “He was being blackmailed.”

Vargas nods. “It’s not much, but it’s a start.”

“Oh, please – like I needed your help for _that_ -” she raises her eyebrows at him and he cuts himself off. “Fine. Thanks.” 

Ted manages to get out of there so that he can actually do something with the new information – just talking about it isn’t going to solve anything. Holden is waiting for him, scrolling through something on her ECHOpad. “Sir, we’ve got a ratch problem in Manufacturing…”

“Send two teams in. One can clear out any nests while the other secures the facility against another infestation. Holden, who do we got with family ties to Maliwan? Y’know, from the group that was at Lectra?“

She lowers her tablet to stare at him. “I don’t think there is anyone, sir, but I can check for you.”

“Might not even be Maliwan, I dunno.”

“Should I call in Colonel Ballard? He was part of the original team who did the background checks; if anyone’s able to tell you something useful, it’s going to be him.”

Ted steals her tablet to scroll through his itinerary, then hands it back. “Have him come by after the construction thing’s finished.”

“You’re not going to cancel everything?” Holden asks.

“What’s the point? You’d just make me do it anyways…but speakin’ of Ballard…”

“What about him?”

“You’re my adjutant, so you speak for me when I ain’t around. He’s got no power over you.”

She’s staring at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Admiral, with all due respect…what the hell are you talking about?”

Huh. Apparently Ballard’s been tip-toeing around it, even after technically clearing it with Ted earlier. “Well, Corporal, when one officer likes _another_ officer-”

Holden scissors her hands to get him to shut up. “That’s…that’s ridiculous, Colonel Ballard does _not_ …I mean, he’s _never_ …”

“Long as it don’t interfere with your duties, I don’t give a damn. Just figured I’d bring it up after what we were talkin’ about the other day.”

His adjutant is bright red and looking everywhere but at him. “Got it, sir. Okay. Sure.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“ _Thank you_ , Admiral.”

“You want, I can tell him-”

“Is this payback for the Dahl thing?”

“Maybe.”

“I kind of hate your guts, sir,” Holden says.

“Y’know? Byco said the same thing – y’all are meant to _be_.”

“Stop it, sir.”

Ted passes the information off to Derrick Ballard and makes sure to embarrass his subordinates by telling Holden that she isn’t old enough to be dating for personality. 

After dutifully attending the meeting concerning the new buildings going up in Lectra City, Ted spends a few hours in the infirmary seeing patients and looking through the Lance database. He has a hunch that Old Ted had been working his way through it before his New-U misadventure – at least, Ted _hopes_ so. He doesn’t like to think he could ever be so negligent as to disrupt the command structure and then not worry about building it back up again. If he dies for good with that kind of power vacuum still in place, the Lance are screwed for sure.

He pushes away from his desk and rubs at his eyes, feeling the beginnings of yet another headache. The fragments of lost memories are like shards of broken glass in his skull, the edges matching up occasionally and forcibly reminding (ha!) him that if he doesn’t get the problem taken care of he’ll bleed to death. Shards are a lot more dangerous than benign ‘puzzle pieces’ though both analogies are equally relevant.

Ted looks over at the screen displaying the time and temperature, and his eyes are drawn to the window just beyond it. Two of the jagged edges ease into place momentarily and he’s rewarded with a vision of standing at the open window, sighting down the barrel of a sniper rifle; one of the recruits has been caught in one of the gas vents and is on fire. A bullet from Ted’s rifle ends the poor guy’s suffering.  
_“You skirt the bounds of propriety, Colonel Blanco,"_ echoes in his head next, and Ted _knows_ he should recognize that voice but all that’s left of her is a flash of pale skin and white braids that slip through his fingers like smoke.

He rubs at his temples, angry that he can’t even remember a simple _name_. Because it’s not just a name, it’s _her_ name and he should never have been capable of forgetting it. Ted still can’t believe he’d forgotten _Blake’s_ name and she’s like Blake…isn’t she? She’s important, he can feel it even if he doesn’t have the memories as proof. Pain flares behind his eyes as he forces himself to concentrate, until it’s too much and Ted feels like he’s going to vomit. 

Grabbing the edge of his desk, he pulls himself out of the chair and staggers to the med vendor. The dark red liquid of an InstaHealth immediately relieves the migraine symptoms, leaving him lightheaded as he collapses back into his chair. “Fuck.” 

Maybe he could solve everyone’s problem by just taking another trip through the New-U. The window’s high enough for him to take a dive out of it but his plan might not even work, and Blake would be upset. So maybe that’s not such a good idea. Ted has a vested interest in keeping Jeffrey Blake happy, after all.

Blake’s moved back into their ridiculously luxurious bedroom and while the sex is a nice perk…what Ted secretly enjoys the most is being able to fall asleep in the arms of someone who loves him. Not something he’d ever admit to anyone, because how ridiculous is it that he values tenderness above all else? They’ve continued to go on dates, and they have yet another one scheduled later – maybe Ted can ask about the mystery woman. Maybe it would be better to wait and see if he’ll be able to remember her on his own. He has no idea what he should do.

A knock on the door has Ted looking up to find Ballard there waiting to speak with him. “Let’s have it.”

Ballard comes inside, stopping a few inches from Ted’s desk. “There are a few different candidates, sir.”

“Yeah?”

“At least nine of those present at Lectra City have some sort of tie to Maliwan. Mostly family members who made a few investments in shell companies or lived in company towns, things like that. One had a cousin who’d joined up but was confirmed KIA fifteen years ago.”

Ted frowns. “And that’s it?”

“Pretty much. We tried our best to look at possible friendships or romantic relationships, but there’s only so far you can really take a background search.” The other man shakes his head. “We could check again if you’d like, Admiral. It’s always possible that we’ve missed something important. What about laying more bait? Promethea’s still under lockdown, but you know that we could easily slip past the Dahl blockade; we’ve done it before.” 

“What about Carver?”

“Lieutenant Carver still maintains that she never saw her assailant,” Ballard says. “I’m not really sure how to move forward here, sir. Our satellites have caught every single transmission to and from the planet since the day you were attacked – there’s nothing _there_. Not even in code.”

Ted leans back in his chair, thinking hard. The answer is close, he can feel it…but a fractured memory of a whispered apology just isn’t enough. _Damn it._ “Then let’s give the traitor a ticket off of Promethea. Start pullin’ together two teams. One for an arms raid, and the other for a supply run. Keep it quiet; our friend’s gotta be desperate by now so they’ll hear. They’ll figure out a way to get on one of those ships.”

Ballard looks skeptical. “Is that wise? If Maliwan finds out…”

“They won’t have a chance to find out, ‘cause we’ll have another ship waitin’ on the other side of the system.”

“That’s still a pretty big risk, Admiral, one I’m not sure we can take.”

“Keep comms jammed – it ain’t that hard, Byco.”

Ted dismisses Ballard and pulls up Carver’s file, staring at the young officer and wondering if she’d been telling the truth when she’d finally woken up. Maybe he should pay her another visit without any other members of his medical staff present…her story might change if she knows she won’t be overheard by anyone else.

He glances up at the sound of approaching footsteps, feeling warmth wash through him when he sees that it’s Blake. “Did I know you were comin’ by?”

“I doubt it,” Blake says with a smile. “Would you like to talk?”

“Why would I…” Ted suddenly realizes exactly why Blake is there, and he turns to glare at the nurse who’d been out in the med bay when Ted had gone out for an InstaHealth. “Goddamned _snitch_.”

“He was worried about you, Theodore. Don’t be cross.” Blake circles around the desk and stations himself behind Ted’s chair, sliding his fingers through Ted’s hair and massaging Ted’s temples. It feels good, Ted thinks, closing his eyes with a sigh. “Do you have any questions for me, love?”

How can he get Blake to do this more often? Is at the top of the list, but he doesn’t ask even though he knows it would make Blake laugh. “There was a woman,” Ted says cautiously. “White hair.”

The massaging fingers pause briefly, then resume. “That would have been Helga,” Blake says. “A truly remarkable young Siren. You loved each other very much.” 

“Did you know her?” _Loved_ , Blake had said, firmly putting it into past tense.

“I did, for about an hour. She…Theodore, she passed shortly after our first meeting.”

Ted’s not sure why he expected anything different, and he wishes he hadn’t asked. “Great.”

“Your life has not been the easiest, dear one.” Blake gently smooths a hand over Ted’s hair. “You deserve so much better than the hand you were dealt.”

A lot of people deserve better than that, Ted thinks. He doesn’t have the long-term memory to back up Blake’s observation, but it feels good to have someone on his side. “We don’t gotta talk about that.”

“I’m aware,” Blake says softly, “but you are curious and I do not mind sharing what I know. In different circumstances, I would have welcomed the opportunity to bring Helga into our relationship.” Ted jerks in surprise and would turn around to stare, but Blake’s fingers tighten around his head and keep him still. “She had discovered your identity shortly after opening a Vault and the two of you were married on Aquator, against direct orders from General Knoxx. Helga was intelligent, insightful, and one of her last wishes was for your continued happiness.”

“So…what, I’m fuckin’ up her last will and testament by mopin’ right now?”

“You’ve been trying your best,” Blake tells him, moving a hand down to the nape of Ted’s neck. “As have I. Life has not been easy, but we’ve had our moments.”

“I guess so,” Ted sighs. “At this point I wish my life coulda been a boring one.”

“Where would the fun be in that? ‘Boring’ is for lesser mortals,” Blake says. “Is your head feeling any better?”

Ted tells him that yes, it does. “Since you’re here…you wanna head out for the night?” He doesn’t want to stay here rehashing a past that he no longer has.

“Why do I have the feeling that you are trying to distract me from your inner turmoil? Theodore, there is _nothing_ wrong with feeling unsettled. Half of your life has gone missing.” Blake circles around to perch on the edge of Ted’s desk, looking stern. “Stop pretending that it does not matter, or that it will simply disappear if you do not talk about it; that behavior is what got you into this in the first place.”

“What’s it matter? Whinin’ over what’s happened to me ain’t gonna change one damn thing,” Ted replies, starting to get angry.

Blake’s chin lifts. “Neither is ignoring it, which will simply make you feel worse about yourself. You do not have to tell me everything, Theodore, but you have to tell _someone_.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Then we have nothing more to talk about,” Blake tells him, standing up.

Ted lunges forward to grab Blake’s wrist, a sudden flood of panic threatening to overwhelm him. “Where’re you going?”

Blake sighs, and the pity in his eyes makes Ted’s fingers loosen their grip. “I am going home. _You_ are going to find someone to talk to, and you won’t be welcome in our quarters until you do.”

“You’re _threatening_ me?”

“I have been supportive, and shall continue to be so, because I love you dearly,” Blake says. “But I am tired of this and the only solution is to give you a kick in the pants that you cannot ignore. So, yes, I am indeed threatening you.”

“But-”

Blake leans in close, and kisses him on the mouth. “Be a good boy, and go to therapy.” Ted watches, speechless, as Blake walks out of his office.

Doctor Vargas finds him there later, still staring at the door. “I was told you might still be here,” she says. “May I come in?”


	12. Perfection, Overrated.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake reconnects with Ted, in every way that matters.

Ted is furious with him but things will work out in the end, Blake thinks as he waits for Saybrook to unsnap the cape from around his shoulders. “Very good, Major. Thank you.”

“It was just a trim, sir,” Saybrook says, placing the cape over the arm of a neighboring chair. “You’re welcome back anytime…but I _was_ surprised to see you come in here.”

“I suppose that time mellows us all,” Blake says, leaning forward towards the mirror to check his sideburns. “It certainly seems to have mellowed _you_.”

Saybrook snorts as he sweeps up the hair clippings. “Time had nothing to do with it. I got a little too big for my armor, and Ares took me down a peg or two.”

Blake exits the salon to find Ted there, speaking with DeWitt about something. Upon realizing that they’re no longer alone, DeWitt immediately touches his forehead in a quick salute and steps back. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Last time I checked, I’m allowed to talk to my own soldiers,” Ted points out. 

“That much is true,” Blake says. “How much longer are you planning on making Major Saybrook pay for his actions?”

Ted glances towards the sign that advertises ‘Crimson Cuts’ in eye-watering red neon. “I dunno; what’d he do?”

“He took me to Friendship Gulag the instant you left my side on Helios.” Blake explains further when Ted’s eyebrows lift. “Friendship Gulag was a Hyperion-owned prison located in the Dust.”

“The Dust, huh? I used t’go play volleyball up in the Roost, back in the day… so, he stuck you in prison. You still mad at him?”

Blake considers the question as they walk further into the Metro Complex. “I was angry for a long time, as were you. Soldiers who use the excuse of _orders_ , without accepting that they should use their own brain, disgust me. However, I believe that the major has learned his lesson.”

“D’you want _me_ to be still mad at him?” Ted asks next.

“I think you have more pressing concerns,” Blake says, slipping his hand through the crook of Ted’s elbow. “Like being mad at me.”

Ted makes an unidentifiable noise. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Ah. So the patented death glare was aimed in my direction because…?”

“Okay, fine. I’m not too crazy ‘bout the stunt you pulled.”

Blake smiles, swaying closer. “But?”

“But I guess I needed it.” Ted glances over at him. “Some things you just…you just never _tell_ anyone even if you know damn well it happened to them, too. It’s like if you say it out loud then it really happened, d’you know what I mean? It makes it _real_.”

“I understand perfectly.”

“Vargas doesn’t say much, doesn’t ask questions. I could probably say just about anything I wanted and she’d believe me,” Ted continues. “Never thought it could work, but I’ll be damned if I don’t feel better. She, uh, she gave me somethin’ but I just don’t know.”

“Something? Like what?”

Ted’s voice drops as though he’s entrusting Blake with a scandalous secret. “Like…medicine.”

“Medicine? You mean, an antidepressant?”

“Keep your voice down,” Ted hisses. “Yeah, that.”

“There is nothing wrong with…those,” Blake says, sighing when Ted immediately starts looking around to see if anyone has overheard. “Theodore, really. I enjoy a show of manly stoicism as much as the next person, but it certainly hasn’t been doing your psyche many favors over the years. If the you-know-what might help you, the least you can do is to try it…unless you are simply too cowardly to make the attempt.”

His sly dig produces the desired results – Ted’s eyes narrow and he draws himself up to his full height. “What’d you just call me?”

“I didn’t call you anything; I merely implied it. Are you going to prove me wrong?”

“How could I prove you wrong if you didn’t actually _say_ it?” Ted challenges.

Blake holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I misspoke. Will you refute the implication, or let it stand?”

“I’ll let your ass stand in the goddamned swamp, JD. I know what you’re doin’ and you are _not_ gonna get away with it.”

“Yes, I will.”

Ted throws his hands up in defeat. “You are so annoying, oh my _god_.”

Blake smiles and takes Ted’s arm once more, steering him back into the street. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice in the past.”

They end up visiting The Loading Bar, taking a table in the back while DeWitt makes sure their presence goes as unnoticed as possible. Blake refrains from mentioning that antidepressants don’t mix well with alcohol; surely a medical doctor will be well aware of this fact and Ted would definitely be irritated with him for saying it. “I might open the port,” Ted says, gazing into the depths of his bourbon. “Supplies, munitions, that kinda thing.”

“Do you think that’s wise? We haven’t located your murderer,” Blake murmurs. 

“I know it, but we can’t go on like this. All the businesses need shit we just don’t have here.” Ted rubs his fingertips on the table. “No guarantee they’d try to sneak out on the first shuttle, either.”

“Surely you don’t believe that they would voluntarily _stay_ ,” Blake replies, though he still has a hard time believing that no one has actively tried to escape before now. If it had been him, he would have either bribed someone or committed another murder rather than being trapped. Even the visit from the Dahl representative could have been a situation that he would have exploited, which shows that Ted’s assassin is either very patient and cunning, or is simply too terrified to make a move. 

It could also have been an individual who isn’t among the group of suspects – that theory has already been discarded by the so-called investigative team, but what if it was ruled out erroneously? 

“None of us’ve ever had to deal with this kinda thing,” Ted reminds him. “Well. None of us _remember_ it, anyway.”

Blake lifts his glass of wine, swirling it gently as he looks out into the bar. “I don’t like this.”

“Welcome to the club.” Ted taps his glass against Blake’s and takes a drink before frowning at it. 

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I…there’s somethin’ that’s right in front of my eyes and I just can’t _see_ it. I thought Carver would know for sure, but turns out she didn’t see shit, either. There’s a lot I should be doin’ but I can’t figure that out, either. I feel like…like a burden, and I fuckin’ hate it.”

“You’ve never been a burden, Theodore,” Blake says softly. It had seemed too good to be true, that Ted’s depression should have left just because he no longer remembered its cause, but now it seems as though it’s still been plaguing him. “ _Never_.”

“I feel like shit all the time, and there’s not even a good reason for it,” Ted sighs.

Blake reminds his lover that there’s been plenty of reasons for it. “Your mind is trying to heal from the damage done at Lectra City, but it’s not going to heal fully until you address _all_ your ills.” Ted frowns at him, and he tries to explain. “Let me put it this way: suppose you broke the bones in your hand and they healed wrong. Then you became temporarily paralyzed…and after the paralysis slowly wore off, you could move your hand again. You would feel better after regaining your mobility, but your old injury wouldn’t disappear without corrective measures and so it would continue to cause discomfort.”

“So…shut up and take the fuckin’ pills.”

“I would also suggest chasing them with a non-alcoholic beverage,” Blake says with a slight smile, and reaches across the table to place his hand atop Ted’s. “If they do not work, I’m sure there are other options.”

He excuses himself to visit the restroom while Ted remains at their table, and encounters a familiar face as he turns the corner. Ted’s previous adjutant is hunched over the bar, nursing a drink. “Sergeant Leith,” Blake says. “I don’t remember passing you on the way in.”

Leith jerks in surprise. “Mister Blake. Hello, sir, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Yes, we thought we would-”

“Oh, he…you’re…the Admiral is here? With you?” The man starts up from his seat, looking as though something has upset him.

Blake gestures towards their table. “Yes, just there. Perhaps you’d like to say hello. Is everything all right, Andrew? You don’t look well.”

“No, it’s – I mean, yes…I just realized that I forgot something. I’m so sorry, sir, I…I have to go.” Leith rushes out, leaving his half-empty glass behind.

Nonplussed, Blake shakes his head and glances back towards their table where Ted is sitting ramrod straight, staring at his hands with a strange look on his face. Most likely regretting his decision to accept medication, Blake thinks as he moves off to find the men’s room.

When he comes back, Ted looks at Blake as if he’s never seen him before. “You didn’t leave.”

“It is considered bad manners to void one’s bladder in the middle of a crowded room…so yes, I technically _did_ ,” Blake says, the smile slipping from his face when he notices the telltale signs of pained fatigue. “You’ve had another headache.”

“Yeah,” Ted says slowly. “I did.” He extends his hand to Blake in a curiously hesitant movement.

Blake reaches across the table once more and places his hand in Ted’s, wincing as Ted’s fingers tighten with a painful amount of pressure. “Easy, love.”

Ted’s grip immediately eases. “I never meant t’hurt you. You know that, right? I’m _sorry_.”

“Of course I do.” Blake smiles reassuringly, wondering if he should ask the staff for an InstaHealth; he knows that the barkeeps tend to keep them inside the till. “Shall we retire to-”

“Yes,” Ted interrupts. “Yes.”

Blake leads the way back to their quarters – more accurately, he _tries_ to lead the way. Ted pulls Blake into his arms at the first reasonably dark hallway they come across, and hangs on as if he’s drowning and Blake is the only one who can save him. “Theodore-”

“I love you,” Ted breathes, pressing his face into Blake’s hair. 

It’s the first time he’s heard those words since Lectra City, and he’d been resigned to the fact that he might never hear them again. Blake returns the tight embrace, feeling tears prick at the inside of his closed eyelids. “Oh, my darling. I love you, too.”

They stay locked together for several long minutes, then Ted’s grip begins to loosen as he realizes that Blake’s guard detail can most likely see them. “Let’s get outta here.”

When he would take Ted’s arm, Ted reaches for his hand instead. “Public displays of affection are usually frowned upon-”

Ted’s fingers lace through his, squeezing. “I don’t give a fuck. You’re mine, and I’m gonna hold your freaking hand if I want to.”

“I _do_ love when you use your ‘admiral’ voice on me,” Blake teases.

“I’ll use my admiral _everything_ on you soon as we get back home,” Ted tells him. “C’mon.”

Blake’s not sure what’s gotten into Ted, but he _is_ sure that he doesn’t care. It’s been several days since they’ve shared a bed, thanks to Blake’s ultimatum and Ted’s irritated response to it. The moment the door closes behind them, Blake finds himself pressed against the wall and very throughly kissed. Ted’s urgent movements seem almost frantic, in an odd sort of way. “Easy, love. We have the rest of our lives,” Blake gently chides.

Ted breaks away slightly to cup Blake’s jaw, green eyes intent upon Blake’s face. “We nearly didn’t.” He pulls Blake back into his arms for another tight embrace. 

“You’re crushing me,” Blake wheezes, and Ted’s hold loosens.

“Sorry.” 

“It’s fine. Just…a bit more gently, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Ted’s hands smooth down the rumpled back of Blake’s shirt. “I can do that.” It transpires that Ted definitely _can_ do that and their subsequent lovemaking is slow and tender to a degree that neither of them have experienced since Blake’s initial arrival on Promethea. 

They’re sprawled together afterward, and Blake closes his eyes to concentrate on the steadily declining thump of Ted’s heartbeat beneath his ear. “I wish it could always be like this, for us,” he says wistfully.

“We could always just take off an’ go into hiding. Nobody’d ever find us.” 

Blake smiles to feel Ted’s hand cup the side of his head in a loving gesture. “You would give up Promethea for me?”

“I’d give up breathin’ for you,” Ted replies. “What’s a planet to compare with that?”

What, indeed?


	13. Reboot Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Promethea’s Killer King puts back on his crown.

Two months. Two fucking _months_ have been wasted because no one was able to figure out that Ted’s own adjutant had been the one to knife him.

Ted gazes at Blake, who is lying next to him with his face relaxed in sleep. Maybe it hadn’t been a _complete_ waste, Ted thinks. He reaches out to run the back of his knuckles across Blake’s jaw, smiling as his skin catches on the scruff that Blake hasn’t yet shaved. Ted should wake him up and tell him exactly whom he’s sleeping with.

He _should_ do that…but he’s not going to.

Not yet.

Rolling onto his back, Ted stares up at the ceiling as he plans his next move. ‘His’ initial plan of letting Leith flee on one of the supply shuttles, while well-meaning, is almost painfully naïve. There’s no guarantee that Leith can’t circumvent the measures that would have been put in place, and besides…Ted _wants_ the man to be able to communicate with his blackmailers. He’ll have to think up some plausible way for the Promethean comm blackout to falter just long enough for Leith to send a message.

If he confronts anyone at Maliwan, especially that crusty old bastard of a CEO, it’ll be all too easy to claim that Leith’s masters were going against orders. Depleted or not, the Crimson Lance isn’t a force they want to take on – which is why they chose to take Ted out of the equation in the first place. No, what Ted wants is for someone at Maliwan to send a strike team to rendezvous with Leith…if he gets enough of their troops in fully marked armor, it’ll be harder for them to deny any official involvement and he can buy the Lance more time.

Yet, what could he do to ensure that happens? It’s highly unlikely they’d risk sending anyone while they know he’s definitely still alive, even if he’s supposed to be half his age and lacking in experience. The only way that Maliwan would attempt to land their troops on Promethean soil would be if…

Ted sits up as the idea hits him, the sudden movement causing his lover to shift restlessly under the covers. 

Blake is going to _kill_ him for this…but it’s perfect. It’s perfect, and it’s going to work _beautifully_. Ted will be on thin ice for a while afterwards, of course, but he won’t mind making it up to Blake – he’ll probably end up enjoying it, even if part of his chosen punishment is participating in something like that new volleyball league.

Easing himself back down, Ted rolls over against Blake and presses his face into the other man’s neck as relief washes through him. Breathing in the familiar scent, Ted wonders what would happen if he were to decide to stay in this particular body – it has less upkeep than the original recipe, that’s for sure. He has a newfound appreciation for how little downtime his younger body needs after sex. It’s a completely different experience being able to get it up multiple times without the help of an InstaHealth or even just being massively horny because he hasn’t jacked off in a while.

 _That_ reminds Ted of what Blake had asked of him a few days back, and he nuzzles his lover urgently. “Hey. Hey, you awake yet?”

“No,” Blake grunts at him. “Take your erection elsewhere.”

“But I made it just for you.”

“Make another for me when I’m fully conscious, Theodore. I am _tired_ ,” Blake mumbles.

“Okay,” Ted says, flopping over onto his back. “I guess I can wait.”

He can’t wait.

Ted spits in his palm and starts to take care of business, fully aware of Blake watching from beneath his eyelashes. It doesn’t take long at all for Blake to stop pretending that he’s asleep, and Ted hums out his pleasure when Blake reaches to help. “You’re shaking the bed.”

“Sorry.”

“You are not,” Blake scolds, turning onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow. Blake’s hand is still moving purposefully, and Ted rolls his hips up into the touch. “Don’t even think about stalling.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t,” Blake says. “Hurry up.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic. Lean closer,” Ted orders, shoving his face into Blake’s neck and inhaling the scent of the other man’s skin. The mixture of soap, pomade and cologne has him pushing up into Blake’s fist with a groan – a few flicks of the wrist, and Ted’s back arches as he reaches climax. Blake pumps him until he collapses back onto the bed with a sigh. “That was-”

“ _That_ was my cue to go back to sleep, so go away,” Blake says, inspecting the mess on his fingers before wiping it off onto Ted’s chest hair.

Ted’s too startled to do anything but stare as Blake rolls away and yanks the sheets back up to his chin – he really _is_ going back to bed. “Okay, well…thanks?”

Blake grunts at him in dismissal and it’s all he can do to keep from laughing until he’s safely in the bathroom. Ted showers quickly, ready to start putting his plan into action, but gets sidetracked by nothing other than his own reflection. He twists to admire the smooth curve of his own spine before turning back to run his hands over his face, leaning towards the mirror. It’s so _strange_ to be this young again; Ted runs a fingertip over the dark roots of his hair, then feels at the unbroken skin just beneath his left eyebrow. 

He walks back into the bedroom still fully nude, pausing beside the bed to see if there are any signs of life, but Blake’s eyes are shut and his breathing has settled into the slow rhythm of sleep. Ted stays to watch for a while, smiling as Blake gives a little snort and smacks his lips. Ted loves Blake so much that his chest aches; how can one person possibly be so wonderful? It defies comprehension.

Kneeling down beside the bed, Ted reaches out to lift several strands of blond hair off of Blake’s forehead and then leans in to press his lips to the slight crease forming just between those closed brown eyes. Ted wants to kiss him awake, to confess everything, but knows that it’s better for the entire garrison if that doesn’t happen…so Ted kisses Blake’s temple instead, and brushes a thumb against the corner of Blake’s mouth because the stately, elegant man who’s become his entire world is drooling in his sleep. 

Ted pulls on his uniform and heads out, sheer habit making him sweep the small container of pills into his pocket as he passes the kitchen counter. He’s halfway to Rise and Grind before he realizes what he’s done, and pulls out the pill organizer to look at it. Ted’s still not that thrilled about the antidepressants, but he can’t deny that they actually seem to be working…so he might as well make sure they _keep_ working. He should have tried them sooner.

“Good morning, Admiral,” he’s greeted by a pack of sergeants who should have better things to do than joyride around Meridian. “Can we give you a lift, sir?”

He opens his mouth to decline, then reconsiders. “Yeah. Thanks.” They exchange startled looks, clearly having expected him to refuse, and he jumps up to perch above the wheel well. “I’d kill for some coffee right about now.”

“You got it, sir, right away.” Ted waves aside their offers to give up their seats to him and weathers his subordinates’ clumsy attempts at smalltalk.

He takes pity on them and asks to be dropped off several yards away from Rise and Grind, amused at the sudden buzz of conversation that starts up as he’s walking off. Ted’s hand slips into his pocket to touch the pills, and he palms one as he slides onto one of the stools at the coffee shop. After he places his order, Ted opens his hand to look at it thoughtfully – it’s hard to believe that something so tiny could make such a large difference, even for a medical doctor who should know better.

The vast majority of his medical career has taken place here, where antidepressants are nothing more than a myth, so perhaps it shouldn’t be a surprise. He folds his fingers over the pill upon hearing footsteps behind him. “Hello, sir,” Ballard says. “You’re up early.”

“Looks like it,” Ted agrees, reaching for his coffee cup when the barista bot sets it down. “Looks like _you’re_ doin’ the walk of shame. Don’t tell me you been fuckin’ with my girl after I said keep your hands off.”

Ballard’s jaw nearly hits the ground. “You never said that.”

“There was a heavy implication.”

“There was not,” Ballard finally starts to argue, and Ted hides a smile behind his coffee cup at how comfortable the kid’s gotten around him. He’s tempted to have a rematch of what happened in the Spillways. “What’s the plan for today, sir?”

Ted shakes the pills in his hand like they’re dice. “Nothin’ much. I just thought we’d finally get rid of those Dahl jackwads an’ then send Sergeant Leith back to his Maliwan friends.” He taps his cup against Ballard’s and puts the pills in his mouth before taking a drink to wash them down. “Dunno why the fuck I keep comin’ back here; this tastes like shit.”

A wheeze draws his attention to his junior officer, who is staring at him with his eyes bugged out. “You’re _back_.”

“In the arthritis-free flesh.”

“So… _Leith?_ ”

“Yup.” Ted reaches out to grab Ballard’s collar when the younger man would lurch out of his seat. “This goes no further’n you for right now – got it?”

To his credit, Ballard looks frustrated and angry. “But, _sir_. We can’t let him get away with it.”

“Oh, he ain’t gettin’ away with _anything_. Trust me on that. Let’s take a walk, Byco.”

They grab their cups and move off into the Metroplex. “Mister Blake must be so relieved-”

“Mister Blake’s got no idea, and it’ll stay that way ‘til I decide different,” Ted interrupts.

Ballard stares like he’s just been kicked. “You’re not going to _tell_ him?”

“Nope.”

“You are going to be in _so_ much trouble when - wait. Sir, _please_ tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do,” Ballard begs. “This is taking suicidal to a whole new level. You can’t _do_ this.”

Ted sighs as they cross the street towards Knoxx Station. “It’s the best option I got. Woulda been nice if y’all had figured out somethin’ different.”

“Fucking _Leith_. We screened that bastard _twice_ , sir. He was…none of us suspected a thing.” Ballard is embarrassed, and absolutely furious.

Ted recounts his ‘final’ moments in the Lectra City outpost. “There’s no way the Katagawas are keepin’ their collateral alive; I know how they work. If Leith’s been shown proof to ensure his cooperation, it’s been prerecorded or doctored somehow.”

“How sure are you that it’s the family? It could be one of the minor shareholders trying to go for the top – getting Promethea would be enough to shift the balance of power.”

“Any of ‘em would send an envoy, try to buy us out – this sneaky shit’s got Katagawa written all over it. I’d say one of the younger ones tryin’ to move up a rung or two. If we can get ‘em to show their hand, send enough troops to negate plausible deniability…” Ted drops his empty cup into a disposal unit. “They _might’ve_ done it once I was dead, but what d’you think they’ll do once the key to Atlas drops right into their lap?”

Ballard scowls. “It may be a good plan, but there’s too many variables. If Maliwan’s willing to kill whatever collateral they have-”

“I know,” Ted replies, “If we make a New-U profile like the ones for _me_ … none of us’re gonna like it, but it would work.”

“You’re right, sir, I _don’t_ like it. Please tell me at least _one_ of us will be on the inside in case things go sideways.”

“It’ll go fine.” Ted leans against the railing, his eyes on the troops circulating around the Fast Travel. “Look into Leith’s collateral, get confirmation, then send Saybrook to my office. It’s time he comes off the bench.” He dismisses Ballard after denying the other man’s request to stay during the upcoming meeting, then contacts Elijah DeWitt.

Blake’s self-appointed bodyguard shows up so quickly that it’s clear that Blake’s still up in the apartment. “You have to be fucking kidding me, sir,” DeWitt announces as soon as he discovers the reason he’s been summoned. “If I’d known you were going to come up with something like this…”

“You’d still do it because I told you to,” Ted replies. “Both of you will be added to the New-U system.”

“That’s a generous offer, Admiral.”

Ted pins him with an unblinking stare. “The word ‘offer’ suggests you’re at liberty to refuse. Rephrase it, Master Sergeant.”

DeWitt swallows convulsively. “Yes, sir. I’ll look after him, sir.”

“Yes, you will. Dismissed.”

His adjutant slips in past a shaken DeWitt, looking at both of them curiously. “Good morning, sirs,” Holden says, smiling as she hoists that damned ECHOpad in her hands. “Ready for your day, Admiral?”

“I should ask you the same question, Corporal.” As far as adjutants go, Ted thinks, Holden’s a damned good one…and she’s definitely good enough to fully step into her role. “How’d you like your own office?”

Her mouth opens and closes, fishlike, as she goggles at him. “Uh…what?”

“An office, Holden. Adjutants aren’t personal assistants, which I don’t need, so it’s past time I stopped treatin’ you like one.”

Holden stares at him for a full minute before finding her voice. “Sir, I think I need to be honest with you about something.”

Dear god, what _now?_ “Don’t make me regret this, Corporal,” Ted sighs. “Go on.”

She sucks in a deep breath, and lets it out noisily. “I don’t really want to be your adjutant.”

“ _Really_.”

“Yes, sir.” Holden’s face scrunches up in an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, sir. I mean, it’s been fun and I’ve learned a _lot_ but what I really want to be is…well…I want to be a Lance Assassin, sir. It’s all I’ve _ever_ wanted to be.”

Ted’s not sure what he expected, but it sure as hell isn’t this. “You wanna be an Assassin? _You_ want to be-”

“You don’t need to say it like it’s _that_ crazy,” she snaps, then realizes how sharp her tone is and claps her hands to her mouth. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

He forces his eyebrows back down from where they’ve taken up residence near his hairline. “Well, Holden, I sure as shit wasn’t ready for you to lay _that_ on me. There any particular reason why you haven’t spoken up before now?” Ted rubs at his temples, wondering what the _fuck_ has been happening while his memory was on vacation.

She shifts her feet awkwardly before answering. “When you came back and took over, you were kind of…terrifying. Sir. Sorry.”

This is not the kind of thing he’d ever thought he’d have to deal with, especially from her; he’s yet to see her succeed at a single attempt at stealth. Just trying to sneak a meal tray into the room while he’d been on an ECHO call has resulted in disaster multiple times. Ted rubs his hands over his face, wondering if it’s not too late to just crawl back into bed with Blake and forget that he was ever awake in the first place. “I don’t got time for this, Corporal,” he begins, intending on sending her off to put his plans in motion, but the look in her eyes makes him pause. “You ever killed anyone, kid?”

“I…”Holden trails off, looking nervous. “Yes, sir.”

“Who.”

She lifts her chin. “General Bartlett.”

“ _Bartlett?_ Bartlett was the only one I couldn’t find because-”

“Because he ran away and hid in the barracks while you were killing the other generals,” Holden tells him, her voice starting to shake. “He came into the showers while I was there, and he begged me to hide him.”

“ _You_ killed Barrett.” Ted vividly remembers how disappointed he’d been at not being able to slaughter the man himself. “That head wound was consistent with a fall.”

“With all due respect, sir, you were a little busy when you double-checked the coroner’s findings. I swept his leg and shoved the back of his head down against the masonry. On any other day, you would’ve figured out that too much force had been applied for just a slip in the shower.”

“He was naked when they found him.”

“I took his uniform off and shoved it into Major Stejda’s locker. 308. It’s still there, if you cut the lock off. Bartlett was known for coming into the lower ratings’ shower, so it was easy for everyone to believe that he fell.”

Ted examines her face for several long moments. “Killin’ one man don’t make you-”

“I’ve killed twenty-four, sir,” she surprises him by saying. “I’ve got proof of each.”

“Twenty-four.”

Holden straightens to attention. “Yessir.”

Ted’s hard-pressed not to let his amusement show. “Send me the details. I’ll look it over and if everything checks out…then we’ll see.” 

Twenty-four.

Jesus _Christ_.

“Thank you, sir. You won’t regret this, I _swear_.”

“I hope not. Wouldn’t want you to kill _me_ , too.”

She stiffens. “It’s not funny, Admiral.”

“Corporal. Yes, it is.” He sends her off and finally gives into the impulse to laugh.

Isamu Saybrook is the only one properly appreciative of his upcoming role, which makes Ted begin to start second-guessing himself. Maybe the whole scheme is too convoluted to actually work. Saybrook insists that it will, but Ted suspects that he’d say just about anything to get away from Crimson Cuts… unfortunately, only time will tell. Ted sends the major off to investigate a few of Holden’s purported assassinations, and makes his way to Barracks 57 see if General Bartlett’s uniform really _is_ where she’d claimed it was.

Ten minutes later, he’s cutting the lock and pulling out a balled-up wad of fabric that reeks of dried blood and mold.

“Huh.”

“There you are, sir,” Ballard calls out from the locker room’s entrance. “Corporal Holden said I might find you here.” 

“She ever tells you she’s gonna add you to her body count, do yourself a favor and make sure you ask ‘which one’ first.”

“…sir?”

Ted waves away the question. “What’ve you got for me?”

“We still have a few contacts at Maliwan, and by ‘few’ I really mean just one. It’ll take them at least two weeks to figure out how to even go about finding-”

“They’ve got two days.” Ted pauses to consider it. “Bet whoever the Katagawas send will have the proof.”

“How’s that going to help us, even _if_ you get it?”

He shrugs. “It won’t.”

Ballard’s face changes as he finally understands. “Sir, I can’t help but think of Major Saybrook. Are you going to…take the same route with Leith?”

“Leith’s had more’n two months for his chance, Byco. If he takes that bait, he’s outta luck,” Ted says, and means it wholeheartedly. “I got no more forgiveness left in me.”

“Yes, sir…and before I forget, Mister Blake was asking for you.”

Ted rubs his hands over his hair, sighing. “Can’t believe it ain’t even midday, yet.” He has so much catching up to do, it’s unreal…and he only has two days in which to do it. “You were wrong about one thing; there _will_ a command structure in place if somethin’ permanent happens to me. List of procedures and promotions’ll be sent to you if I haven’t logged into the main terminal in five days. Maybe I’ll send it early so you got somethin’ to do while we’re gone.”

“While we’re…? Sir, the terminal connection doesn’t extend past orbit.”

“Exactly. Your ass is stayin’ here.”

“ _What?_ ”

“What can I say, Byco? Bein’ indispensable sucks ass.” With that, Ted pats his protégée on the shoulder and goes to find Blake.


	14. I’m With Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things aren’t adding up, and Blake decides to find out why.

Something isn’t as it should be.

Blake can’t put his finger on it, but _something_ has changed even if Ted seems to be normal. Well, as normal as one can be once more than half of their memories have been wrenched from their brain. It _could_ just be related to Ted’s surprise declaration.

“Sticks!” He looks up from his ECHOpad as Ted strides in, slamming the door behind him excitedly. “You’re not gonna _believe_ this.”

“Oh? What’s happened?”

“ _Holden_ happened,” Ted says, his face bright with laughter. “She’s a freakin’ mass murderer!”

“…pardon?”

Ted hurls himself onto the sofa, and no less than two accent pillows bounce to the floor. “She wanted me to train her as an assassin an’ I was all ‘okay, have you killed anyone before’ so then _she_ says ‘two _dozen_.’”

Blake shakes his head in disbelief. “ _What?”_

“I almost lost it right there when she told me. Every single one of ‘em was set up as accidental, too; girl’s got a gift.”

“Oh, my.” When he thinks of all the times Corporal Holden has delivered food, or completed various errands for Ted… “Elijah’s mentioned her wish to be trained as an Atlas Assassin, but I confess that I thought it a passing fancy.”

The mention of Blake’s bodyguard makes some of the happiness leak from Ted’s expression. “Freaking _DeWitt_.”

“Surely you’re not jealous,” Blake says. 

“He pisses me off,” Ted replies, which isn’t an answer at all. “Anyways. What’re you up to, today?”

“Nothing exciting, I’m afraid. It seems that Corazza is experiencing a shortage of raw materials.” Blake explains that the ‘shortage’ is more along the lines of the same type of blockade that’s currently affecting Promethea, and Ted’s expression grows even more displeased. “There’s no proof that the Dahl Corporation is behind it.”

Ted knocks another pillow off onto the floor. “I’ll take care of it.”

Blake raises his eyebrows and declines to comment. “Is there any particular reason why our pillows are being tossed about?”

“Kinda hard to invite you t’join me over here if these damn things are takin’ up all the space,” his admiral hints.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Blake sets the tablet aside and walks over to the couch, where Ted seizes his waist and draws Blake down into his arms. “What do you propose that we _do_ with all this space, right where any of your subordinates could walk in and see?” He settles onto Ted’s lap, smoothing the black fabric of the uniform across those wonderfully broad shoulders. 

“They’d knock first.”

“Oh?” Ted’s eyes narrow in pleasure as Blake’s fingers stroke down the column of his neck. When Blake runs both his thumbs along Ted’s windpipe, pressing lightly, he’s startled when Ted pushes against his hands and grinds up into Blake’s thigh. “Theodore-”

Ted pulls away belatedly, blinking. “Um.”

“I wouldn’t think that you were _quite_ ready for that sort of thing,” Blake says cautiously.

“Sorry, I…”

“Of course, _you_ would be the best judge of that.” Blake shifts his weight in preparation to move off to the side, but Ted holds him in place. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Ted looks up at him. “What if I asked you t’do that? Would you do it?”

Considering the fact that the mere suggestion of fingering during oral sex was enough to send Ted into a tailspin (no pun intended), Blake can’t possibly imagine what Ted thinks he’s playing at. There’s no way that this could end in anything other than complete disaster, and he resolves to speak quite plainly to shock Ted’s slowly returning sensibilities. “If I knew you truly desired it, I myself would insist that we swap our positions and make you ride my cock while I asphyxiate you with my necktie; however…” he trails off into silence when he sees Ted’s pupils expand until only a slight ring of green remains. 

It seems as though _Blake_ is the only shocked person here.

“That, uh…that sounds…” Ted draws in a shaking breath and sucks his lower lip between his teeth. “I want that.”

“ _That_ is not a good idea.”

“What if I say ‘please’? You’ve always loved it when I beg,” Ted whispers, rubbing up against him.

Something has, indeed, changed…and now Blake knows exactly what it is. 

How had he not noticed? How _long_ hasn’t he noticed? “Not here, and not now,” he decides, placing his hands on Ted’s chest and pushing away. “I couldn’t possibly.”

Ted’s disappointment is nearly palpable. “Come _on_ -”

They both swivel towards the door as DeWitt knocks on it and comes through a scant three seconds later, effectively drawing Ted’s ire. “Did you get bumped to CEO when I wasn’t looking, DeWitt? Are you in possession of the controlling shares of Atlas stock?” he demands, standing up in a smooth motion. It’s all there, from the note of command in his voice to his posture, and Blake can’t believe he’s only just figured it out.

DeWitt takes a step back. “No, sir.”

“No, you did not. Until that happens, I had better see you following proper procedure when approaching the private residence of a commanding officer,” Ted says.

The other man’s eyes dart from Ted to Blake, and back again. “Sir, I have standing orders to-”

“I’m not interested in what you have,” Ted interrupts. “Go back into the hallway, and try again.”

“I…yes, sir,” DeWitt says, coming to attention and saluting before turning on his heel and walking back out.

Blake turns to look at Ted in disbelief. “Is this truly necessary?”

The rap of DeWitt’s knuckles against the door is loud in the ensuing silence, and Ted tilts his head towards the sound. “Wasn’t it you who said they’d knock first?”

“He technically _did_ knock first,” Blake is obligated to point out. “Are you going to let him in?”

Ted sinks back onto the couch and makes himself comfortable, knocking another pillow off onto the floor. “Nope.”

It’s difficult to go about his day knowing that Ted is deliberately withholding information from him, but Blake takes comfort in the fact that Ted wouldn’t do so if it weren’t for a good reason. All Blake has to do is to discern that reason.

He’s still thinking about it as DeWitt escorts him through Meridian; Blake has a meeting scheduled with several armory technicians and they’re nearing their destination when his bodyguard places a cautionary hand on Blake’s elbow. “Just a moment, Mister Blake.”

“Is there a problem, Elijah?”

“No problem, sir, just wanted to draw your attention to the opposite side of the street. The traffic flow has been unusually light, but we should still proceed with caution,” DeWitt says, gesturing towards the buildings.

Blake frowns – they haven’t seen any vehicles for several minutes. Turning slightly to follow the motion, he catches sight of Isamu Saybrook walking with… “Is that Ted?”

“I’m sure I couldn’t say, sir,” DeWitt says.

“It _is_ him. But why would he be with…?”

“I’m sure I _could not say_ ,” DeWitt insists. “ _Sir_.”

Blake looks at his companion, blinking slowly. “You cannot say.”

“That is correct.”

“You cannot say, because I do not know…yet, if I figure it out by _myself_ …?”

“If you figure it out by yourself, and I confirm it, it can’t really count as me _telling_ you,” DeWitt says. “Your appointment was rescheduled.”

Which means that DeWitt had led him here for the sole purpose of showing him that Ted was meeting with Saybrook. On the surface, it looks innocent enough – after all, Ted himself had asked Blake if the man deserved another chance. However, with the return of Ted’s memories surely he wouldn’t want to pardon the man so quickly, so why would he even…? “He needs him to do something; something that I clearly would not allow if I knew,” Blake says, thinking hard. “Ted wanted to flush out the traitor by scheduling an arms raid, so if he knows who it is and wants Saybrook…why would he not tell me?”

Is Saybrook intending to out himself as the traitor, or perhaps a co-conspirator? Not all agents in corporate warfare are aware of the others’ existence. “I _would_ guess that the major going to confess to being Ted’s murderer, but that doesn’t make sense.”

DeWitt remains silent and tilts his head slightly, which means that Blake is onto something. What he needs to focus on is the fact that he’s being deliberately kept in the dark; maybe he doesn’t need to worry about Saybrook at all right now even though the major seems to be instrumental in whatever Ted is planning. DeWitt clearly knows the plan and he doesn’t seem to approve; his bodyguard is risking Ted’s displeasure once again…yet, why would DeWitt go through such pains to make sure that Blake sees Ted and Saybrook together?

The man’s become something of a pariah in the Lance for his role in kidnapping Blake when they’d still been on Helios and though he seems to have been welcomed back, Blake’s always felt as though the other soldiers are waiting for Saybrook’s next misstep… “Surely Major Saybrook isn’t going to abduct me again,” he says lightly.

DeWitt coughs. “Not _Saybrook_.”

The response is pointed enough to let Blake fill in the rest of the blanks. Maliwan sent the assassin in the first place, to weaken Atlas enough so there would be little resistance to a hostile takeover – but Ted’s survival means that particular plan is off the table. If Maliwan captured _Blake_ , Ted might well trade Promethea for his safety.

If they tried and failed because Ted set them up, Maliwan would think twice before attacking the Crimson Lance again. It’s brilliant, actually, and Blake doesn’t know if he should be proud of Ted’s cunning or furious at being used as a pawn. “I’m to be bait,” he says finally.

“Yes, sir, you are.”

“When was this decided?” Blake asks quietly, turning to look out over the water.

“Early this morning, Mister Blake…whatever happened last night seems to have brought it all back.”

Last night? “Of course,” he says, remembering Ted’s headache and the fierce declaration of love on the walk back to their quarters. “The Loading Bar.” 

Blake feels slightly better upon knowing that Ted hasn’t been playing him for a fool for weeks on end, but even a handful of hours is too much. “The admiral thinks that he can save Promethea this way,” DeWitt says softly. “He wouldn’t put you in this position if he didn’t think you’d be safe. I’ll be with you the entire time, if that makes you feel any better.”

“At the moment, Master Sergeant, it does not.” Conquering the urge to violently accost Ted, he decides to go for a walk around Meridian in order to calm himself. Blake declines to question DeWitt further, for fear of growing even more angry, and uses the time to think.

By the time they complete a full circuit around the sprawling metropolis, Blake has decided not to confront Ted at all – if the deadline for this nonsense is two days away, he’d like to see if Ted will confess…or not.

He doesn’t want to think about what might happen if Ted doesn’t say a word - still, he’s had an unfortunate amount of practice pretending that things are just fine even when they clearly are not.

Ted is in their quarters cooking dinner when Blake returns. “Hey, you.”

“Hello, yourself. That smells nice,” Blake says, walking through to the kitchen and taking a seat on the other side of the counter. Ted drops the knife and leans across for a kiss. “What will we be having?”

“I thought we could use up whatever’s left in there; I don’t even know,” Ted tells him with a smile. “But you always like it when there’s pastry involved, so it’s in a pie.”

Blake fights back a surge of anger, replying as innocently as possible under the infuriating circumstances. “And _you_ tend to clean out the cooling unit before an extended absence. Are we going anywhere I should know about?” He’s supposed to be acting as if he still has no idea but honestly, does the man think he’s _stupid_? It defies comprehension.

“Goin’ somewhere? Not that I know of,” Ted tells him. “Maybe once I get rid of the Dahl bastards, we could go on vacation.”

“Yes, of course.” Blake smiles again, tasting acid at the back of his throat. “Please do inform me of the deadline for that.”

Ted looks at him for a moment, then back down at the dough he’s been trimming. “I could order out, if you want.”

“I’m sure this will be satisfactory.”

“Yeah, maybe. Want some wine?”

“Yes, please.”

Ted falls silent after pouring a glass and handing it over, while Blake’s emotions seesaw from anger to hurt. “So…everything okay with Corrazza?”

“Not even remotely,” Blake says, lifting the wine in a sarcastic toast. “I’m sure the situation will resolve itself soon.”

“What, all on its own?”

Blake eyes his lover over the rim of the wine glass. “You were the one who said that you’d take care of it, were you not? Surely you have _some_ idea what to do.”

Ted looks away uncomfortably. “I…I dunno. I thought I did.” 

“But you doubt your initial assessment?” Blake needles, even though he knows he should stop. “How unfortunate.”

“Uh-huh.” Ted rubs at the side of his neck. “Hey, Jeff…?”

Can it really be so easy? “Yes, love?”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll figure it out,” he’s told instead, and Blake’s mood sours further.

_Damn_ it!

Dinner is an awkward affair, with Blake’s inability to stop troweling on the guilt and Ted’s increasing discomfort over what he thinks are completely innocent comments. Missed opportunities abound to the point where Blake is ready to scream in frustration. 

He’s trying to decide whether or not to simply confront Ted and have done with it when Ted abruptly gives in. “It was Leith.”

“Pardon?”

Ted rakes his hands through his hair, leaving an abstract work of art in their wake. “Maliwan’s got someone close to him as hostage so he’d do it.”

“I see,” Blake says politely, wondering just how angry he has a right to be since Ted has confessed of his own free will. He’s worked himself into a fine state of indignation for the past few hours, after all, and this is disappointingly anticlimactic.

“I thought up this whole plan and wasn’t even gonna tell you, but I can’t do you like that.” Ted looks positively wretched, and Blake’s heart goes out to him. “I just _can’t_. Honey, I’m…I’m sorry.”

“You should have told me immediately,” Blake scolds, but reaches out just the same. “Come _here_.”

Ted practically vaults the counter to get to him, and they fall in a tangle of limbs onto the carpet. “You’re so stupid,” Blake sighs between kisses as Ted rolls above him. “Honestly, Theodore. Absolutely brainless.”

“Whoa,” Ted says, pushing up on his hands and looking down at Blake. “You _knew_?”

“The abrupt request for erotic strangulation was a massive tip-off. Are you quite sure all your brain cells are intact? You still seem to be missing several,” Blake tells him. Ted’s expression veers wildly between lust and actual pique, as if he’s got any right to feel that way.

Lust wins out, just as Blake had thought it might. Not that he really minds. “I’ll bet you wish I was, you dirty bastard.”

Blake closes his eyes as Ted drops back down to bite at his neck. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Y’don’t think I know how much you loved havin’ me look like this an’ be clueless as fuck? You ol’ sleaze,” Ted breathes into his ear. “The things I could do t’you…”

“I have already been on the receiving end of your awe-inducing, never-ending erection, in case you have forgotten that as well,” Blake says, knuckling Ted’s ribs in an attempt to find his shadow’s ticklish spot.

He knows he’s found it when Ted suddenly hoots and squirms away, batting at his hand. “Quit it!”

Blake laughs and seizes Ted by the ears, pulling him back for another kiss that makes his heart ache at the sheer _rightness_ of it. This is everything he’s been missing, and more. He blinks back tears as they separate just enough to draw breath, and Ted’s own expression begins to crumple as he sees it. Anger, hurt, and…yes, even lust is put to the side as they come together in a fierce embrace.

“I was so terrified that I’d finally lost you,” Blake says thickly, pressing his face into Ted’s shoulder. “You have no idea…and then they’d brought you back and you didn’t even know who I _was_.“

Ted’s arms tighten around his body. “All I knew at first was, you were somebody important.”

“Oh, my darling. I can’t believe that you’re finally _you_.”

“Missed me, huh?”

Blake swallows past the lump in his throat, closing his eyes against the gentle touch of Ted’s lips on his face. “More than you can ever know.”

“I’ll always find my way back to you, Jeff.” Ted’s mouth finds his, and hands start roaming as their mutual need begins to resurface. “ _Always_.”

They’ll have to discuss Ted’s plan, as well as his duplicity – but not now. Morning will come soon enough and with it, myriad complications. Tonight is for loving, for a reunion that Blake had thought all but impossible.

Anything else can wait.


	15. The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Self Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ted struggles to rationalize his choices both to himself and to Blake.

He must be getting soft in his old age, Ted thinks, to have simply blurted out the truth like that. He’s supposed to be the Lance hardass, never flinching from his responsibilities even when he doesn’t like what has to be done. 

It might have been the smart thing to keep silent, but it wouldn’t have been the _right_ thing – not for either of them. Blake turns towards him with a smile, and Ted reaches out to reel him in. “What are you thinking of, my darling?”

The pet name makes Ted feel warmth spread through him, because he knows without a shadow of doubt that Blake loves him. He’d forgotten that, had let his depression convince him that he wasn’t worth it, but Jeffrey Blake has always been there for him…even when Ted hadn’t even been there for himself. “I’m thinkin’ that I wouldn’t have told you the truth if I hadn’t been through this mess.” If he hadn’t been through it he wouldn’t need to worry about telling Blake anything.

They’re tucked up together in a private booth at Meridian City’s newest sushi place, and Blake carefully selects an Eden roll before glancing back over. “And are you regretting your choice?”

“Yes and no,” Ted answers honestly. “All my life, I‘ve needed to be ruthless – do whatever it takes and the hell with collateral damage…but what kinda life is that? Now I’ve got the chance to really help out everyone on Promethea, but the only way it’ll work is by sacrificin’ _you_.”

Blake chews thoughtfully and takes a drink from his water glass. “I’m sure there are other ways your plan would work, but this is likely to be more expedient.”

“You’re not wrong…”

“Theodore, it doesn’t need to be said but you must know that I trust you implicitly.” Blake reaches out to lay his hand over Ted’s, squeezing gently. “If this is the best chance to keep Promethea safe, you _must_ take it.”

Ted drops his eyes to the slim, long fingered hand grasping his. “I dunno, anymore. What if…what does it say, that I’d trade every person on this planet for you? I know what the right thing t’do is, Jeff, but I’ve lost you before and it nearly killed me. I can’t go through that again.”

“What does it say? My dear, it says that you have suffered unimaginable trauma. It says that you are _human_. Who would consciously seek that out?” Blake seizes Ted’s other hand beneath the table. “Your first instinct was to protect those beholden to you, and now you are second-guessing yourself. I know that you would not even consider it if you weren’t sure that you could pull this off. There is no one else I could ever trust more, Theodore. My life is safe in your hands.”

“I’d make a back-up for the New-U,” Ted says slowly.

“Of course you would. Now, with that in mind, why in the world would you hesitate?”

“You ever been through the system before?” Blake gives him a look, and Ted squeezes his lover’s hands. “What happens if you’re too far away, and the signal won’t reach? What happens if they take your head off an’ you can’t regen? What happens if they don’t kill you at all, but make you wish they did? What _then_?” Is he supposed to just…what, come back to Promethea and cue up the copy? He doesn’t want Blake to _ever_ feel what it’s like to cycle through the system.

Blake moves closer, disengaging his hands to place them on either side of Ted’s jaw. “If I survived Hyperion, I can survive Maliwan. Theodore, we will do what must be done.” His eyes sparkle with sudden amusement. “I survived _you_ , did I not?”

It makes Ted smile, as intended. “You survived me only ‘cause I liked you enough to _let_ you.”

“I’m sure that was the only reason. Have you tried this variety? It’s quite nice,” Blake says, showing off his newly acquired skill with chopsticks by selecting another Eden roll and waving it in Ted’s face. “Open.”

Ted has to admit that it’s pretty good, which leads to Blake attempting to give him ten more all at once. “Take it easy, I can’t eat that fast! I’m not even that hungry.”

“I, for one, am ravenous – which must be a side effect of having our dinner incinerated when you ignored it,” Blake says.

“That was your fault just as much as mine,” Ted points out, and then he has to to divert Blake’s attempt at a retaliatory pinch. “Hands where I can see ‘em, sex beast.”

Blake buries his face in his drink, and Ted can both hear the muffled snort as well as see it as the water tsunamis inside the clear glass. “Sex beast!”

Ted clicks his chopsticks together in warning. “Don’t you be causin’ a scene, JD.”

“Don’t call me that,” Blake says immediately, frowning. “We still need to discuss the plan for tomorrow; it _is_ tomorrow, is it not?”

Unfortunately, Ted thinks, it is. “Yeah.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

Blake lowers his own chopsticks and looks at Ted as if spotting the dumbest thing in the room. Which is definitely the truth. “The _plan_ , Theodore. What is it?”

“I…can’t tell you.”

“I beg your pardon?” Blake’s gaze sharpens and his voice swings upwards in outraged surprise, causing a few of the other diners to look over at them. 

Telling Blake to keep his voice down is only going to make him louder, which…could be to their advantage. How much of an asshole can he be, thinking that making Blake angry is an _advantage_? “Keep it down, huh? Folks’re lookin’ at us.”

“Keep it _down_?”

Yes, there it is. Ted leans over so that they’re nose to nose. “I can’t tell you, ‘cause your reaction needs t’be genuine.”

“So you doubt my acting ability, is that it?”

Why can’t he just _go_ with this? Isn’t it enough that he knows this much? “Uh…yeah? How’re you gonna sell it, if you know what’s up? I mean, damn! You can’t _lie_ , Jeff.”

Blake’s eyes narrow and his voice drops to a hiss that Ted doesn’t like at _all_. “Just because I am honest with you doesn’t mean that I lack the capacity to be otherwise – or have you forgotten that I rose to the Hyperion presidency _without_ your help? Have you forgotten that my existence does not depend upon your own?”

“I never said it does,” Ted says, fighting down the instinctual panicked flutter inside his chest caused by Blake being angry with him; really _angry_. He remembers one of the times he’d pushed Blake nearly to the breaking point and had sat, helpless to do anything else but wait, in a patch of scrub grass while Blake was trying not to fall apart less than three feet away. “I never believed it does, either.”

More people are looking over at them now. “It is clear that you do not trust me, and my importance is not-”

Ted’s hand slams down onto the table before he fully realizes that he’s done it. “Your _importance!_ You got the nerve to say I don’t think you’re _important_? D’you even hear yourself? Jesus fuckin’ _Christ_ , Jeffrey!”

“Then why would you put me in this situation? We’re supposed to be honest with each other; that’s what people who love each other _do_ ,” Blake says, and he’s got a point, but Ted’s too pissed off to move the conversation forward.

“Your _importance_ ,” Ted says again, so angry that he can barely see straight. “Y’know, I just – what a goddamned _stupid_ thing to say.”

“And now you’re saying that I am stupid,” Blake announces.

Ted hits the table again, hard enough to make the condiments momentarily leave its surface. “I’m startin’ to think that you really might be! So yeah, Jeff. You’re unimportant, all right. You’re so damned unimportant that I fell in love with you _twice_ \- you stupid, skinny son of a bitch.”

Blake moves so quickly that Ted doesn’t even see the carafe being picked up until all the water inside it’s been thrown in his face. They both stare at each other in shocked silence, and then Blake slides out of the booth. “I gather this is what you wanted, so I must congratulate you for achieving it.” He turns to the lone human attendant. “Apologies for the mess.”

“It’s no problem at all, Mister Blake. Have a good ni- I mean…” the young woman trails off uncertainly.

“Thank you. I hope you have a good night, as well,” Blake replies graciously, and leaves the restaurant without a single backward glance.

Ted sits back, exhaling slowly as he takes stock. There’s water everywhere, dripping off the table’s edge and pooling in the dishes…not to mention all that’s soaked into his uniform and causing his hair to flop into his eyes. Everyone in the goddamned place is staring at him, and they’re not even bothering to hide it anymore.

What a fucking _mess_. 

“Would you like a towel, sir?” The attendant asks.

“I think I need twenty of ‘em,” Ted sighs, “but one is better’n none. Thanks.”

He wipes his face with the towel she brings him, and stares at the takeout containers she’s _also_ brought along. “I…noticed that you hadn’t eaten very much of your food, so I brought you some more,” she says. “And Mister Blake seemed fond of the Eden rolls.”

“I don’t need relationship advice from anyone,” Ted warns her, irritated that everyone on Promethea seems to think that his relationship is their business.

“Of course not, Admiral, but he might like some sake with that.”

Ugh. “I don’t care. Send the bill in to Corporal Holden.”

“Absolutely, sir-”

Ted sighs. “But if I _did_ care, and I ain’t sayin’ that I do…you got any of that, here?”

She produces a bottle of sake from out of nowhere and announces her wishes for him to have a good night, which really means that she wants him to get the fuck out of there so that she can start gossiping. 

With another sigh, Ted gets the fuck out of there.

Blake is waiting for him up near the edge of the mercantile district, and Master Sergeant DeWitt slips off of his perch when he sees Ted approach. “Good night, sirs,” he says respectfully before disappearing.

Ted watches him leave, then turns back to find Blake staring at him. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“I’m waiting for you to comment on Elijah’s presence, as you so often do.”

He has, Ted realizes, and it’s the furthest thing from fair. “Well…I’m jealous, ain’t I?”

“ _Are_ you?”

“He’s protected you all the times I couldn’t. Course I’m fuckin’ jealous of that bastard. It’s s’posed to be _me_.” Ted lifts the takeout carefully. “I brought you Eden rolls.”

Blake doesn’t move to accept it. “I’m still angry with you.”

“Believe it or not, I realize that.”

“Then you also realize that being angry with each other is a normal thing; a _necessary_ thing,” Blake says. “Why don’t we go for a drive so that we can talk about it?”

Ted exhales shakily. “Okay.”

Safely concealed in a Lance vehicle, they drive out to the Meridian Outskirts and Ted parks on a hill overlooking the city. “It’s very beautiful out here; gorgeous view,” Blake comments as they settle on top of the hood. “Were you often here with Helga?”

“She’s the one showed it to me,” Ted says, passing the bottle of sake over to him. “Jeff…”

“I threw that water in your face because you insulted my mother, in case you are wondering,” Blake says, opening the containers and looking inside. “Though I suspect it will prove invaluable, thanks to the gossip it will inspire. I mean what I said earlier, about fighting; no relationship can survive by skirting conflict. It can be messy, hurtful, and…not very much fun, but it _is_ necessary. _Emotions_ are necessary. Theodore, it has been months since you’ve been able to lower your guard - even with me.”

Ted takes the container of food that Blake hands him. “I couldn’t. There was – and still is – way too much at stake.”

“You’ve kept yourself from me, and I have missed you,” Blake says simply. “I understand how hard it’s been – believe me, love, I _do_. But I’ve also seen that you’ve taken steps to help yourself process all that’s happened to you.”

“If I recall, you threatened me into it.”

“I make no apologies for that. The point I suppose that I am trying to make is this: it’s been a _very_ long time since you have allowed yourself to be free with your emotions, and a good argument is something we both needed. Now. Would you like one of these?”

“Yeah, okay.” They eat in silence and Ted thinks about everything they’ve said so far; he has no idea where he stands with Blake, but he’s cautiously optimistic about it. “That was _not_ a good argument,” he says after a while.

“Oh?”

“Don’t give me that; you know we could do better.”

Blake laughs and flicks rice at him. “I’m sure that much is true. Did you mean what you said?”

“I said a lot of shit, so you gotta narrow it down.”

“You said that you’ve fallen in love with me twice. Did you mean it?”

Ted takes a drink from the bottle and hands it over. “It pissed me off, that you didn’t think you were important. If it wasn’t for you, I don’t think I’d’ve ever been able to come back from what happened in Lectra City.”

“Surely-”

“No,” Ted interrupts. “It was _you_. I could’ve stayed where I was, an’ maybe even be happy about it, but I needed to know what was goin’ on with us. After I figured _that_ out, all I wanted was to be worthy of you. Jeffrey, you…you’re everything to me. _Everything_.”

Blake reaches out to take his hand. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”

Ted exerts enough gentle pressure on Blake’s hand to pull him closer. “All this time, I kept thinkin’ that you’re as far from my ‘type’ as it gets. Thing is…I dunno if I’ve got a type at all – there’s just a perfect person for me, and that’s always gonna be you.” Lowering his head, Ted brushes his lips against Blake’s and waits for his lover to tilt his own face up in response. “I love you.”

“Oh, you gorgeous and _completely_ clueless creature,” Blake smiles, sliding his hands up on either side of Ted’s jaw. “I love you, too. Come here.”

They kiss, and Ted can feel another thread slip loose from the tangled knot of emotion in his chest. He’d like to resolve this right here and now, but with his luck they’d fall off of the car and the ratch scuttling on the ground would want to join in. Ted contents himself by cuddling the living daylights out of Blake, who is loudly frustrated at the lack of actual lovemaking – as if they haven’t already boned the hell out of each other just before dinner. “What’d I tell you? That’s some prime sex beast behavior right there,” Ted laughs, then has to wonder if this might be the last time he laughs with Blake about _anything_. “God, I fuckin’ hate this. There’s so much that can go wrong tomorrow – it ain’t too late to just…not do it.” He hates feeling so unsure.

“Theodore, we’ve already laid the groundwork for it. At least, I’m assuming that we did since you seemed so determined to pick a fight in public and claimed that I’m incapable of a convincing lie. Everyone here knows that the only way you would let me leave Promethea - without being glued to my side - is if one of us would be done with the other.” Blake sighs, pressing close and burrowing his head beneath Ted’s chin. “I don’t like it; even _pretending_ to be at odds with you to such an extent is distressing. Yet the alternative is unthinkable – the people here have welcomed me as if I am family. The least I could do for them, and for you, is to go through with this charade no matter how distasteful it is to me.”

“But you don’t gotta-”

“Yes, I do. And I _will_ ,” Blake interrupts. “This will _work_ , love.”

“You don’t even know what I planned, you dumbass, so don’t you be tellin’ _me_ that it’s gonna work!”

Blake pokes him in the side. “You chased me halfway across the galaxy and terrorized me with little more than split second decisions. If you actually took the time and _planned_ this, it will work. Have faith in yourself, dear one.”

Like hell, he will. “But what if-”

“Ted, for God’s _sake!_ ” Blake roars at him. “Enough, already!”

“Don’t yell at me!”

“I will yell if I feel like doing so. Now, if you cannot trust yourself - trust me, instead. Can you do that?”

Always, Ted thinks. “Yeah. I guess I can do that.”

“Then trust me that I know that you know what you’re doing.”

“What the fuck kinda sentence was _that_?”

“The kind that you will listen to, and agree with, because I’ve told you to,” Blake says severely.

Ted has to laugh. “Okay, fine, you crazy bastard. You win.”

He forces himself to recall his earlier determination; he’d been so sure this would work – it shouldn’t be that hard to actually believe it again, right? Blake believes it will and he doesn’t even know what’s going to happen beyond a loud, fake public breakup. They can do this. It can work. Ted shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “It’ll work. I’ll make it work,” he promises himself aloud.

“Yes, you will,” Blake tells him. “Now you’ll take me back to the Atlas Campus where we will stage another public quarrel and then retire to our living quarters to ‘bang it out,” as Ned would undoubtedly say.”

Well, at least _someone_ knows what they’re doing.


	16. Toupee or Not Toupee?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...unfortunately, that _is_ the question. Blake’s plan goes off the rails as Ted decides to wing it.

“I intend upon making several statements which are hurtful for me to say and for you to hear – please know that I do not mean a single word,” Blake says, gazing up into his admiral’s eyes. “We will get through this.”

Ted doesn’t look so sure, and Blake doesn’t feel sure at _all_ , but Ted must be confident. If that means that Blake needs to suppress his misgivings about this insane situation and play along, that is what he’ll do. Maliwan’s shadow will be banished from Promethea today, no matter what the cost. Blake only hopes that the cost doesn’t include either his life or Ted’s, though he’d gladly trade his position amongst the living if Ted’s was threatened.

It’s disheartening that Ted’s experiences have left him so lacking in self-confidence…yet Blake rejoices that Ted is finally able to _share_ that vulnerability instead of simply retreating behind the false persona of expressionless, emotionless competence that Blake so despises. The success of this plan – whatever _that_ may include – is instrumental in helping Ted fit back into his role as Promethea’s protector. With any luck, it will also help ease Ted back into his own skin…figuratively _and_ literally, because sleeping with a gorgeous twenty-something makes Blake feel like a pervert. 

“How mean’re you plannin’ to _be?_ ” Ted jokes, and Blake is the only one who could possibly decipher the nervousness in his voice.

Blake takes Ted’s hands and raises them to his lips for a kiss. “Nothing that you cannot handle, dear one. You’ve prepared some verbal ammunition of your own, haven’t you?”

“What? No,” Ted replies, his eyes widening slightly. “I thought…”

“No matter,” Blake says soothingly. “I will start us off, and you can follow my lead. Now. This will likely be the last time we’ll be able to speak privately until the desired outcome has been reached, and I would like a kiss.”

Ted’s response is immediate, the single requested kiss quickly developing into at least half a dozen as he crushes Blake to his chest. “I’ll get you back, I swear I will.”

“Of course you will. What, precisely, _was_ your original plan to drive me off?” Blake regretfully steps out of the circle of Ted’s arms and uses the reflective surface of the lift’s side panels to fix his hair before pressing the down arrow.

He catches Ted’s wince in the makeshift mirror. “I was gonna accuse you of…of…y’know _what_ , it don’t even matter now, so-”

Oh, god. Blake doesn’t want to know…but he needs to find out, anyway. “As long as it’s not an accusation of infidelity, I’m sure that it does not.”

“…but if it _was_ , how mad would you be?”

Blake turns slowly to face his shadow, who is looking extremely ashamed of himself – and rightfully so. “Theodore, are you trying to say that you really _were_ going to do that? You were going to say - in _public_ , no less - that I have indulged in an _affair?_ Are you _insane?_ ”

The lift has almost reached the bottom floor, where they will shortly be surrounded by Crimson Lance soldiers. The perfect audience, if Blake were in any way interested in such a thing. “No! I mean, I was gonna _say_ that but then I told you-”

“You did not tell me _this_ ,” Blake cries. Of all possible avenues Ted could have taken, _this_ is the one he chose. The platform hisses to a stop, and now their argument is a public one…just as they’d wanted. Wonderful. “My name, my very _reputation_ simply…dragged through the swamp because you couldn’t simply be _honest_. I came to Promethea for you, and you have been constantly pushing me away ever since!”

“Lower. Your. _Voice_ ,” Ted hisses.

“I will _not_.” Blake looks around at all the soldiers desperately pretending to ignore their disagreement. “Every single one of them will know about it, anyway, so why try to hide anything? I have _had_ it with your emotional constipation, Theodore.” Part of him is glad that Ted has made this easier for him – what had the man been _thinking?_ “If you cannot extend the smallest amount of trust towards me…”

Ted is becoming visibly upset - whether it’s simply for their audience is anyone’s guess - and attempts to grab Blake’s elbow. “We ain’t doin’ this here, Jeffrey.”

Blake jerks his arm out of reach and opens his mouth to continue the argument when DeWitt arrives to make a bad situation into one that’s much worse. “Is everything okay, Mister Blake?”

Ted’s anger locks onto the new target like a heat-seeking missile. “There a reason you think you can interrupt us, Master Sergeant?”

“Sir…? Uh, no sir. Sorry, Admiral.”

“I bet you are,” Ted says nastily. Blake frowns at both of them, wondering how much of this is for show. “I’ve had it with your insubordination, DeWitt. You’re being assigned to Eunomia, effective immediately – go pack your bags.”

Ted begins to walk away without another word, but DeWitt flushes angrily. “You can’t do that; I’m assigned to Mister Blake-” he stops, going pale as Ted pauses.

“Did I hear what I _thought_ I just fuckin’ heard…?” Ted turns around slowly, and their onlookers suddenly discover they have other places they need to be. Again. “You just can’t quit while you’re ahead, can you?”

“Theodore, don’t do this,” Blake interrupts.

“Yeah, _there_ it is. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna jump in to protect this son of a bitch – didn’t have to wait too long, did I?”

He’s really going to do this, Blake thinks in disbelief. “Stop while you still can.”

“What else does he do? It’s gotta be somethin’ real _good_ if-” Ted’s head rocks back from the force of the blow and Blake hugs his wounded fist to his chest, wondering if they’ve both finally gone mad. Ted runs his fingertips along the bloodied lip that Blake’s just given him, and looks at Blake coldly. “Y’know what? You can go along _with_ him. Get the fuck outta my sight.”

“ _Ted_.”

Ted’s facial expression holds nothing but fury and disdain. His eyes are a different matter, and Blake’s heart aches at the look in them. Whatever he’d thought up as a contingency plan, this is the one that they’re now stuck with and the only way that Ted can do this is by being deliberately cruel. As far as protective measures go, Blake would much rather have tactical armor. “Corporal Holden,” Ted calls out.

His adjutant arrives moments later, severely winded but valiantly trying to hide it. “Sir?”

“Escort these two to the Spaceport when they’ve finished packing – they’ll be leaving for Eunomia within the hour.”

“Within the…?” Her eyes are as large as dinner plates as she looks back and forth between them. “Sir, the blockade.”

Ted ignores her and focuses on Blake. “Don’t think you got enough time to pack all those fancy clothes of yours – you can take one extra outfit an’ you best believe I’ll burn the rest. How ‘bout that one with all the pitchforks? It’d suit you, ‘cause you can go straight to Hell. One hour, Corporal,” he says, turning on his heel and walking off with his voice raised to a roar. “Everyone else? Get back to _fucking_ work if you ain’t gonna tag along!”

Blake presses a fist against his stomach, wondering what’s coming next as Holden clears her throat reluctantly. “Sirs? I…need you to, um…I’m sorry, but…”

“It’s all right, Corporal. Go with Mister Blake and help him gather his things, and I’ll meet you here in twenty minutes,” DeWitt says.

“But the Admiral said to-” Holden breaks off with a sigh. “Yes, sir. Twenty minutes.”

She’s clearly mortified at having to escort Blake to his own quarters as the lift begins its ascent. “Mister Blake, I’m…I’m so sorry.”

“It’s quite all right,” Blake says, still striving for calm. “None of this is your fault.” The person whose fault it is, is probably bullying Dahl into removing the blockade. What an _idiot_. An _hour_?

Holden starts dry-washing her hands the moment she follows him into the home he shares with Ted, and the motion grows even more agitated when he invites her to sit, so he leaves her in the living area and goes into their large walk-in closet.

Ted had made a point to mention the replica of the suit Blake had frequently worn on Helios – and on Pandora – so Blake begins pushing clothing aside in his search for it. He _know_ it’s there because he’s worn it recently, but isn’t seeing the damned thing anywhere. The lighting in the massive closet gains a momentarily reddish tinge, and Blake sighs irritably. “I’m in no mood for this. I _said_ I would start us off, and now everyone thinks I’ve been unfaithful to you. With _DeWitt_ , of all people.”

“No, they don’t,” Ted informs him, reaching past to nudge one of Blake’s monogrammed bathrobes aside to reveal the sought-after outfit. “They think I’ve finally gone ‘round the bend. Even Doctor Nosy Neighbor is up my ass about it – the gossip pipeline is fast as hell. ‘Sides, I thought you liked DeWitt.”

“I don’t like him in that way, and you know it,” Blake says sharply, then glances over his shoulder as he remembers that Holden isn’t that far away. If she hears their voices and comes to investigate… “While I am glad that you have finally found your confidence, I seem to be swiftly losing my own. Perhaps it was right that you made me so angry.”

Ted takes Blake’s hands, raising them to his mouth in a distorted echo of Blake’s actions just minutes prior. “It wasn’t. I just didn’t wanna hear whatever you planned on sayin’ in case you hurt my feelings.”

“I’ll lose my nerve if you stay here much longer,” Blake says, jerking his hands back and hoping that Ted will say something else that’s offensive enough to infuriate him; anger tends to drown out worry. “Ted, please. Go.”

Ted’s brow furrows unhappily, just as it always does whenever Blake says his actual name. “Consider me gone. Watch yourself, and listen to DeWitt…oh, and Jeff?”

“Yes?”

“Get a haircut.” With that, Ted disappears and Blake is left wishing that he had been strong enough to request a kiss, or just a simple handclasp. 

He brings his fingers to his lips, feeling slightly foolish for it, and catches sight of himself in the full length mirror. “Pathetic,” Blake chides his reflection. It seems as though he and Ted have swapped backbones when neither of them were looking. “My hair is fine.”

It’s just like Ted to kick over a varkid nest and then show up again for another few whacks at it. Blake reaches for the twinge of irritation that he feels, and holds on tight to it because Ted is an absolute _idiot_ for pulling a stunt like this. He also reaches for the suit he’d been sent to wear, and dresses hurriedly before emerging to find that Holden is pacing back and forth so energetically that she’s left a rut in the floor.

“Have you considered trampling the carpeting more evenly? I’m not sure that the fibers will ever fully recover.”

She pauses to look over at him. “How can you act like this is a joke? This is…it’s _crazy_.”

“If you’re implying that I am amused by any part of this, Corporal, you are mistaken,” Blake says. 

Holden’s agonized expression, at any rate, would be amusing at any other time. “I’m sorry, Mister Blake, but…the Admiral would never do this to you. I mean, he _did_ but…he…I just thought that…”

“Ted has been troubled by the gaps in his memory,” Blake says quietly. This, at least, is something he doesn’t have to lie about at all. “I have no doubts that my departure from Promethea is for the best.”

She’s clearly unconvinced, but eschews further argument and follows him back down to where DeWitt is waiting for them. Blake’s bodyguard is wearing casual clothing for what has to be the first time – Blake has never seen the man in anything but a variation of three different Lance uniforms. Holden immediately turns bright red and excuses herself with an undignified-looking scurry.

“Well,” DeWitt says after it becomes clear that Blake isn’t going to say anything about…whatever that was, “We’ve got about thirty minutes before we need to get on that fucking shuttle. Any last requests, sir?”

“I was told that I’m in need of a haircut.”

DeWitt’s eyelids flicker. “Then it looks like we need to get you over to Sergeant Saybrook.”

Upon their arrival at Crimson Cuts, Saybrook promptly kicks his other patrons out and locks the door. “You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago,” he says, unlocking a cabinet to dig around inside it. 

“Since I am apparently the only one who _doesn’t_ know my own schedule, won’t you _please_ tell me how I was supposed to know that?” Blake demands. Saybrook turns back around with a coil of wire in one hand, and a small furry animal in the other. “What is that?” 

“Admiral thought you could use a concealed weapon, and nobody alive’s going to look for a garrote under your toupee.”

Blake taps his right ear experimentally – his hearing must be going, because there is no other explanation for what he has just heard. “I beg your pardon? I do not have a toupee.”

“Not yet, sir,” Saybrook says, hoisting the animal up into the air. “I worked on it all day yesterday and can promise you that it’ll match perfectly with your own hair.”

“I fail to see how. That…thing…will add at least three inches to the top of my head once you pin it atop my existing hair,” Blake points out. “I’ll look ridiculous.”

Saybrook clears his throat delicately. “It won’t sit on top of _any_ hair,” he says, and DeWitt looks up from his ECHOpad.

Blake stares at the toupee suspiciously. “What do you intend to sit it on, then?” The realization begins to sink in as soon as the words leave his mouth, because that makes it sound like…

No.

He wouldn’t _dare_.

“Abso _lute_ ly not.”

“Admiral Ares was very clear on his expectations for-”

“I championed you, and this is what you’ve come up with?” Blake yells. “ _No_.”

“When they grab you, you know as well as I do that they’ll search you. They’re not expecting a hairpiece, and even if they realize that you even _have_ one, they won’t touch it for fear that the Admiral will find out. Maliwan’s risking enough just taking you – they won’t want to add insult to injury.”

“Elijah-”

“I’m not getting paid enough for this shit,” DeWitt says, retreating to the far corner of the salon. “Leave me out of it.”

They argue about it for several more minutes, time they can’t afford to lose, and Blake finally gives way after Saybrook assures him that an InstaHealth will rectify the hair loss. It’s deeply humiliating, even if it _does_ make sense that Maliwan will overlook the only weapon Blake’s likely to have in case he needs to defend himself.

He sends DeWitt to guard the door and has Saybrook turn him away from the mirrored wall while the procedure is completed – when it’s done, Blake scowls at his reflection and pokes at the toupee irritably. “It looks as ridiculous as it feels.” He’s of a mind to get an InstaHealth immediately, and then checked medically for symptoms of a concussion; blunt trauma to the skull is the only thing that could explain what he’s just allowed to happen to him. “Elijah, come look at this.”

“It looks real,” DeWitt announces. “I don’t think you’ll have a problem with it at all, sir.”

“It _looks_ like it’s readying itself to spring upon you; don’t lie to me.”

Saybrook insists that Blake only believes the hairpiece looks bad because he knows it’s not his real hair. Blake scowls into the mirror and indulges in a vivid fantasy in which he pulls Saybrook’s hair out by the roots, and DeWitt intervenes before Blake says or does something which they will all regret.

The only good thing to come of Blake’s disastrous stop at Crimson Cuts is that he no longer needs to feign anger towards Ted. DeWitt fills him in on what to expect while they’re on their way to the spaceport – Saybrook’s foolishness has made them late, but he can’t imagine that the shuttle is going to leave without him. He’s supposedly the only reason it’s leaving at all, so the fucking thing can wait a few more minutes.

An itch makes Blake raise his hand up to scratch at his head, and his fingers come into contact with the toupee. “Why the _hell_ did I _agree_ to this?” Blake snarls.

“I’m sorry, sir. It _is_ a good idea,” DeWitt says apologetically. “Now, it looks like Leith took the bait – he’s signed up along with a few others who seem to have their own reasons for wanting to transfer. None of them have had prior contact with Leith and two of them have family stationed on Eunomia. The other three have had…let’s see…a combined total of fourteen reprimands; theft, public indecency, and some drug-related offenses.”

DeWitt doesn’t think it likely that the last three mentioned will be a problem, but Blake hopes the two soldiers who are simply transferring to be closer to their families don’t have cause to regret their decision. “Don’t tell me that they knew what they were signing up for when they first joined the Crimson Lance,” Blake says sharply when his companion pulls a face. “I can worry about whomever I choose.”

“Yes, sir.”

They arrive at the spaceport to find that Ted has not only _not_ been waiting for them, but has called some sort of field exercise. This means that a great number of Lance are swarming around the place pretending that they’re busy instead of actually showing off for each other. Every soldier who notices him either nods in greeting or stops to give a quick salute, so it’s clear that Ted’s prediction has come to pass. 

Leith is huddled in his seat when Blake boards the shuttle, and his eyes dart between Blake and DeWitt. “You’re really leaving?” the sergeant blurts out, having the nerve to sound shocked.

“So it would seem. I’ve never been banned from an entire planet before,” Blake says, finding his own seat and studying the face of Ted’s murderer. It’s small consolation that the man looks absolutely miserable at what he’s done and most likely intends upon doing in the future. “Off to try your luck on Eunomia, Sergeant? Do you have family there?”

“No, sir, I…I just needed to get away.”

Blake nods, glancing over to see DeWitt talking with the shuttle pilot. “I understand the impulse. I _would_ normally sympathize with your trauma over finding Ares dead in the manner that you did, but at the moment I wouldn’t mind killing him myself.”

“He’ll want you back, Mister Blake, don’t worry,” Leith says, averting his eyes.

Faithless _ratch_ , Blake thinks. All Leith had to do was to tell Ted, who would have handled it. “I don’t appreciate being labeled a cheat, publicly or otherwise, Sergeant. If anyone is going to worry about being ‘taken back,’ it is most definitely _not_ going to be me.”

DeWitt comes back to sit down beside him, nodding at Leith. “Sergeant.” The shuttle’s engines power up with a high-pitched whine that makes Blake’s teeth hurt, and he looks out the front viewscreen as they lift off of the ground. Once again, he is heading into the unknown while Ted stays behind him and swears to follow…he hopes that it doesn’t become a habit.


	17. What’s a high, without the low?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Take Your Protégée To Work Day as Ted finally gets rid of the Dahl blockade.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that,” Ted orders, motioning for Holden to give him the ECHOpad in her hands. “What’ve we got?”

She falls into step with him, still frowning as she hands over the tablet. “We’ve got two shuttles in geosynchronous orbit and one leaving the atmosphere. You know, the one with Mister Blake on board.”

“Go on…”

“The Dahl blockade is still there, and they’ve already threatened to fire on any vessel leaving orbit. Need I _remind_ you, sir, that Mister _Blake_ is on a vessel which will be leaving orbit?”

Ted turns on her so quickly, she’s forced to scramble backwards to avoid a collision. “Need I remind _you_ , corporal, that-”

“Sir,” Ballard interrupts, hurrying towards them. “We’re ready for you in the armory.”

Narrowing his eyes at his adjutant, whose only discernible reaction is to squint right back at him, Ted looks over at Ballard. “Swap out the least qualified one for Corporal Holden – she’s gonna tag along, learn the ropes.”

Ted starts walking towards the armory, leaving them scrambling to catch up. “Tag along? Sir, she hasn’t been trained for this.”

“Trial by fire, General. ECHO ahead, have ‘em get out…let’s see…Minerva’s armor should fit.”

Ballard falls back in surprise. “General?”

“Open your orders, Byco.”

“ _General_?!?!”

“Trial by fire, remember?” Ted raises his voice because Ballard is still rooted to the spot. “C’mon, Killer, let’s get you suited up for war.”

She trails after him, not saying a word until they reach the armory where four different strike teams are assembled. “Admiral…what the hell? War? What’s going _on_?”

Ted motions for their armor to be brought forward, and begins to strip out of his uniform until he’s down to the skintight bodysuit that’s the only thing that won’t ride up beneath his Lance Assassin armor. “First we’re goin’ up to scare the drawers offa those Dahl dumbasses and disable their systems so they can’t fire on that shuttle you were so worried about. Then we’re gonna take the fleet and beat the livin’ shit outta whatever Maliwan troops show up to poach Blake. Get _dressed_.”

“Why would Maliwan show up? Sir, you need your meds adjusted or something – this is beyond crazy.”

He probably should’ve just let her in on the scheme in the first place; this is taking fucking _forever_. “Maliwan’s gonna swipe him so they get leverage – they didn’t have Leith shank me for the hell of it, Corporal,” he says impatiently. One of the other soldiers brings him his ceremonial armor, which is still so new it even _smells_ that way, and Ted puts it on quickly.

Her eyes grow huge. “Leith…? He’s on the shuttle with Mister Blake.”

“Yup.”

“And if you know who it was – oh, my god. You’re _you_.”

“Well, I ain’t your momma,” Ted says, approaching her with a syringe that Ballard hands to him. “Hold out your arm, you haven’t been chipped yet.”

Holden does as ordered, her outstretched arm trembling. “You’re the old you.”

Ted slides the needle into her left tricep and depresses the plunger before pulling it out and dropping it into the metal tray Ballard hands him. “Glad you finally caught up, Byco.” Placing a small bandage on the puncture wound, Ted looks up into Holden’s eyes; they’re the size of dinner plates. “You been drivin’ me nuts with your schemes all this time, and _now_ you’re suddenly scared of me? Shake it off, kid.”

She manages to get it together while he helps her into the borrowed armor, but is clearly still nervous as they all gather together. “Everyone got your Oz kits? Good – link up into your teams; I want two groups of three for each Dahl warship,” Ted says as calmly as he can manage. _Confidence. Sure thing, Jeff._ “Maintain comm silence, static bursts only in case of emergency – and there will be no emergencies, you get me?”

“We get you, _sir_ ,” they all bark back at him in unison.

“You’d damn well better. Jeffrey Blake’s putting his life on the line for every fucking one of us - let’s make it count, and make him proud. General Ballard will provide further orders for those of you not coming with me,” Ted announces, looking around at the men and women huddled around them before grinning. “Now, let’s boot those Dahl fuckwads outta our airspace and send ‘em cryin’ for their mommas.”

They cheer at this, and separate into their assigned groups. Holden looks at him quizzically, but doesn’t speak until he returns from teleporting each group to their destinations. “Where to, Admiral?”

“I figured we’d go pay Larsen Phinneas a li’l visit – put your helmet on, and don’t throw up in it.”

“If you say so, sir.”

Well, it hasn’t taken her long at all to recover her sass. Ted puts on his helmet and seizes her arm, teleporting them both to the middle of the main warship’s bridge. He can hear her retch as he releases her, turning smoothly to confront the Dahl captain while the other officers present surge to their feet and fumble for weapons. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re-” Phinneas’ outraged yell cuts off as one of Ted’s swords swings around in a strike that would ordinarily decapitate him, but Ted briefly deactivates the plasma so that he shears through the other man’s epaulets.

“Your presence here will no longer be tolerated,” Ted says, reaching out to flick the burnt fabric from Phinneas’ shoulders. “You have five minutes to leave orbit.”

“Get the hell off my ship,” Phinneas blusters. “I don’t know who you think you are, Ares. This is an act of aggression that won’t be ignored.”

“Captain, I’m picking up a shuttle leaving orbit,” a comms officer warns.

Phinneas’ eyes don’t leave the faceplate of Ted’s helmet. “Get a lock on it, and shoot it down.”

“Sir,” Holden murmurs from beyond his left shoulder.

Ted turns slightly to look at the security officer, who freezes in place when he realizes Ted is watching him. “I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”

Phinneas allows his anger to override his caution at having two Atlas Assassins standing on his bridge, and his composure cracks. “ _Damn_ you, Blanco. You slaughtered four members of my family and you think I’ll just let that go? Fire on that shuttle, _now!_ ”

“Slaughter is a strong word,” Ted says, waggling an admonitory finger at the trembling man caught between his commanding officer and someone who could filet him like a fish without even blinking. “See, I remember what happened on Aquator and _slaughter_ isn’t really the word I’d choose. If Dahl spent more time teaching their employees to swim, things wouldn’t’ve turned out the way they did – at any rate, you’re wasting your time and energy being angry with _me_. I was paid to sabotage that yacht, so I did. Meanwhile, the person who paid me was probably laughing her ass off at all four funerals…Major General Augusta Clayton, I think her name was.”

“General Clayton. You expect me to believe, without proof, that General _Clayton_ would have paid for my family to be killed? Fire on that goddamned _shuttle_!” 

“Send the man the proof he wants, Corporal.” He can sense, rather than see, the security officer’s hand begin to move. Teleporting within arms reach of the weapons station, Ted’s sword hovers a hairsbreadth from the man’s throat. “Do it, and I’ll gut every last one of you...starting with this fucker, here.”

“ _Sir_ ,” the security officer wheezes, not even daring to swallow.

“Here’s what’s going to happen – you’re going to let that shuttle leave. Then, you’re going to let the rest of our fleet leave; when I say _let_ , what I really mean is that any attempt to move from your current position _or_ to power your weapons will result in the destruction of your entire complement of ships. I’ve got people on each one just _waiting_ for you to do something stupid.”

“I don’t-”

“Believe me? Go ahead, call down to engineering and the missile bay; we’ll wait…but make it fast, because your officer here looks like he’s about to wet himself,” Ted advises. He probably should’ve removed his helmet for this; it’s hard to cut eyes at Holden and expect her to know what he means when they’re both wearing variations of the same damned helmet. He tilts his head towards her and she gives him a slight nod, which means that he needs to kill a bit more time before they can leave. “What’s your name, kid?”

The young man he’s holding hostage is shaking like a leaf – if he doesn’t get himself in order soon, he’ll shiver himself right into a slit throat. “A-andrews?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?”

“Ah…telling you? Sir?”

“Well, Lieutenant Andrews, let me tell _you_ something - you seem like a nice young man who just wants to do his job and live his life. I don’t really want to cut your throat at all; this is new armor and arterial blood stains something awful. You just wouldn’t believe it. I’d rather not kill you, but I will if your buddies over there _don’t stop inching towards the fucking override._ ” Ted pauses to look over at the guilty parties, who in turn look to Captain Phinneas for guidance. “Oh, man – that’s got to sting. See that, Lieutenant? _Both_ of them were going for it. Do you see them, over there?”

Andrews’ pained wheezes redouble in intensity as Ted allows him enough breathing room to look. “Yes.”

“Maybe I should kill one of them, instead. Tell you what; I’ll let you choose. Which one?”

“I…I don’t…”

“Oh, that’s sweet; you don’t want to be responsible even though _they_ had no problem with me killing you,” Ted says, and looks over towards Holden. “Pick one.”

She immediately draws her sidearm, but before she can finish fully extending her arm, Captain Phinneas speaks up. “The shuttle can go.”

“What’s that?”

“The…proof you’ve provided checks out,” Phinneas says shakily, his face flushed by either anger or embarrassment. Maybe even both. “Please, Admiral Blanco…release my officer. Everyone else; stand down.”

Ted lets the plasma flow back into the sword hilts, and he gives the trembling man an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Go change your drawers, son.” With a quick look at this commanding officer, who nods in permission, Lieutenant Andrews hurries off the bridge – but not without a hard stare at the two men who were more than willing to let him die. There’s going to be fun times ahead for them, Ted notes as he removes his helmet and tucks it beneath his arm. “How d’you wanna go about this? I got places I need to be, Phinneas.”

“Go about…what, exactly? I let your shuttle leave, and you didn’t kill my weapons officer. We’re done here.”

“You hearin’ this, Killer? This fool thinks we’re _even_.” Ted shakes his head. “Here’s what’s gonna go down; you’ll hand over the contents of your ships’ armories, and we _won’t_ scuttle your ships with everyone still on ‘em.”

Phinneas argues that they wouldn’t do such a thing, which would spark inter-corporate war. Ted reminds him that Lance soldiers have seized five Dahl heavy cruisers, and are under no obligation to give them back – opening the weapons lockers is literally the least they can do. They haggle over the details until Holden’s discreet cough alerts Ted to the fleet’s imminent arrival, and then he insists upon – and gets – half of the armory contents and an entire Dahl cruiser.

Ballard takes over via ECHO, and Ted ‘ports both himself and Holden to the cruiser he’d had his teams clear in anticipation of his bargain. “Well?” He asks, watching her wrench the helmet from her head and pretending not to notice the sour smell wafting from it.

“Did you really want me to shoot one of those men?”

“It don’t matter now, does it?” He’d honestly been expecting her to balk at the order. “You never even hesitated – you got the stuff, kid.”

She looks down, shamefaced. “I threw up in the helmet.”

“Everyone does, their first few times. Go on and rinse it out,” Ted instructs, and she gives him a hesitant smile before doing as ordered.

He would say that it’s hard to believe that he was ever that young but, until a few days ago, he really was that young. _Is_ that young, he amends. Holden needs a lot more training and he shouldn’t be bringing her along before she’s ready for it…yet, being dropped headfirst into a mess like this will be a better test for her than any program in the simulator. If she isn’t too traumatized by the time they return to Promethea, he’ll make sure Holden rivals even The Gladiator herself.

She returns, fully deodorized, as the Crimson Lance fleet is still settling into formation around them. “Admiral? I was wondering…?”

Ted doesn’t look up from the report that Saybrook has just sent him. “What is it, Holden.”

“Well…it’s about your accent.”

“I don’t got an accent,” he replies, glancing up when she sighs at him. “It’s a habit, by now – used to be that nobody could know who the hell I was. ‘Sides, I can’t have folks thinkin’ I sound… _friendly_ and shit when I’m there to murder ‘em. I’ll be your best friend once that helmet comes off.”

Holden smiles despite herself. “You must have a lot of best friends.”

“I’ve got at least one.” He looks back at Saybrook’s report and swears, tossing the ECHOpad onto the nearest console. “Phinneas sent off a briefing about what happened to the fuckin’ New-U; guess who intercepted their comms?” There’s a slim chance that Maliwan hasn’t tried to replicate the accident but Ted would bet his life that they’ve tried, and that they’ve succeeded. “ _Fuck_.”

“You think they’ve tried the process for themselves?” she asks, following his thoughts.

“Why the hell wouldn’t they? Their company’s big enough as it is – if they develop it, they can just bring back whoever they want from the grave. The other corporations won’t have a snowball’s chance in hell once Maliwan grows their army like that…shit, they’d probably even clone ‘em just ‘cause they could.” Did Atlas have _nobody_ who thought they should’ve monitored the Dahl blockade’s transmissions? Ted curls his fingers up against his palms in an effort to stop himself from putting his fist through a bulkhead. How the _hell_ are they going to stop Maliwan now?

Holden watches him pace back and forth for a while before offering her opinion. “Are we still operating on the belief that one of the Katagawa children is secretly bankrolling this?” He stops to stare at her, making a ‘go on’ gesture with his hands. “Everything I’ve learned about that family has taught me that they keep their cards close to the chest – if what you say is true, they’re bound to have some sort of blacksite.”

That makes sense, Ted admits. He could have made the same connections if he weren’t so damned stressed out. Whatever research is being done, the Katagawa in charge won’t want anyone else in the family to know anything until it pays off…and since Promethea is already being used as a test of sorts, what better place to actually _use_ that research? He wonders if they’ll try to experiment on Blake, and tastes acid in the back of his throat. One thing is obvious; once Ted gets aboard a Maliwan ship, his main priority will have to be discovering whatever the hell they’ve done with the information they have. “I was wonderin’ what job I should give you once we meet up with those bastards; now I know. Good thinking, Killer.” 

She turns pink and tries not to smile at the praise while Ted reads through Saybrook’s report one more time. 

This was only supposed to be about warning Maliwan away from Promethea, and reclaiming Jeffrey Blake. Now he’s also faced with preventing the spread of knowledge that no one should ever have had in the first place; what a fucking _disaster_. 

Confidence, Blake told him.

Yeah, _right_. 

Ted runs his hands through his hair, staring at his youthful reflection in the mirror-like surface of a darkened monitor. “You ever been in love, Holden?”

“Sir?” she turns towards him, looking confused. “In _love_ …? Well, I…no, I don’t really think so.”

“It’s a trap.”

“You don’t mean that. I’ve seen the way you and Mister Blake look at each other,” Holden chides. “Are you trying to tell me that you…what, that you regret it?”

“Regret? No, I don’t _regret_ it. I’d do anything for that skinny bastard, and he feels the same – he’s doin’ this for _me_. Thing about love is, you think you’ve got it all figured out but then it all goes to hell the moment you ain’t lookin’. Love’s a pain in the goddamned ass, Corporal; stay the hell away from it.”

She smiles. “You’re one of the most dramatic men I’ve ever met; it can’t be _that_ bad.”

“Oh, ‘course it ain’t. It just depends on how much you like ulcers.” Ted sighs, and prepares to read that damned report again.


	18. The Only Truth that Sticks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies...

He’s developing an ulcer, Blake decides. There can be no other possible explanation for the way his stomach seems determined to dissolve in its own acid. He rubs a hand over his midsection and doesn’t have to pretend that he’s not totally miserable; they’ve managed to evade the Dahl blockade’s notice and are out of weapons range so now the waiting begins.

Leith is practically dancing in his seat nervously, and DeWitt’s spine is ramrod straight as he stares at the back of the pilot’s head. The other soldiers slated for transfer are talking to each other quietly, occasionally glancing over at them, and it’s no real mystery what they’re talking about. 

“Master Sergeant,” Blake asks, “Precisely how long will it take us to reach Eunomia in a shuttle such as this?”

DeWitt doesn’t even bother to look over at him. “You got me kicked out of the Promethea garrison. I’m done following you around and you won’t be following _me_ , either. I don’t give a damn _where_ you go.”

What? “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me; I’m done with you,” DeWitt says evenly.

Blake is taken aback by how calm DeWitt is – surely he’s been instructed by Ted to say this. “Sergeant-”

“I was just trying to do my job, Mister Blake; watching over you was supposed to be a fast track to promotion,” DeWitt says, finally looking at Blake in frustration. “It was supposed to be _easy_. Now Ironspine’s gone off the deep end and thinks… _Jesus_. Nobody even knows what’s waiting for us at Eunomia - he’s probably ECHOed ahead and told them God knows what about me. I’ll be lucky if I’m not busted back to Private when we get there, and it’s all because of _you_.”

“No matter what I might think of your Admiral at the moment, he would not have done such a thing.”

“Wouldn’t he? You probably wouldn’t have thought that he’d suddenly decide you’re fucking the leader of your guard detail, either, but here we are,” DeWitt says bitterly. “They should have just left him dead in the dirt at Lectra.” He returns his gaze to the front viewscreen, and Blake finds himself summarily dismissed.

Blake sighs inwardly, wondering just how upset he should be. He’d wondered why DeWitt’s team had adopted him and even if this turns out to be a ruse…Blake had heard the ring of truth echoing amongst DeWitt’s statements. His ex-bodyguard does, indeed, regret his assignment. 

He’d never asked to be assigned _anyone_ , Blake thinks. DeWitt had simply declined to leave. 

Leith sneaks yet another look at him, and Blake’s ire is instantly roused. “Is there something I can help you with?” he snaps. 

“No, sir,” Leith says quickly.

_That’s what I thought, you worthless traitor_. “Then I suggest that you mind your own business.”

He remains on edge, waiting for his upcoming abduction and wondering if they’ve somehow guessed wrong, until the shuttle pilot raises her voice in alarm. “We’ve got company – a _lot_ of it.”

“Here we go,” DeWitt murmurs.

Blake closes his teeth on the inside of his cheek, worrying at the skin. “What is happening?” he calls out, as if he doesn’t know exactly which forces are currently surrounding them. Leith turns to look at him and it’s scant comfort that the man seems terrified. 

“It’s Maliwan,” Leith says, swallowing audibly. “They’re here for…for _you_ , Mister Blake.”

“For me? Why would they be here for me?”

DeWitt turns to stare at him meaningfully and Blake stares back, not caring that he doesn’t sound very believable – Leith is in too much of a state to tell, anyway. “Because I…because…”

The shuttle lurches with the sudden impact of a boarding tube and the pilot’s frenzied attempts to contact Promethea abruptly cease as the Maliwan troops on the other side of the hull begin to cut through. “Weapons out; we’re being boarded and there isn’t a fucking thing we can do about it,” she yells. “Kill as many of them as you can.”

“You did this?” Blake asks. “ _You?_ ” A glowing red line begins to etch itself into the side of the shuttle, slowly but surely creating a makeshift door.

Leith brings up a weapon that Blake hadn’t even realized that he’d held. The repeater is lifted to point directly at Blake, though it veers from side to side wildly as a result of Leith’s tremors. “I’m sorry, sir. I had to.”

“Ted _trusted_ you,” Blake says, finally able to vent his loathing for the man. “You murdered him, and-”

“Whoa, what the _hell_? Sergeant Leith, stand the fuck _down_. Put it down,” the pilot roars, aiming her own weapon.

The other soldiers don’t know where to look but finally settle on training their weapons on Leith, too, with the occasional glance at the hull breach in progress. 

Blake takes a deep breath, prepared to launch another flood of invective towards Ted’s murderer, but DeWitt finally decides to move from his seat. His supposed protector fires on the pilot first, and then shoots the two other men whose only crime was wanting a transfer to Eunomia. “Tell Maliwan to make room for one more,” DeWitt says, pressing the warm muzzle of his gun against the side of Blake’s head. “Anyone tries to kill me, I kill _him_.”

“This…this is some kind of trick,” Leith says, his gun still swaying madly.

“No trick. I don’t know what’s in this for you, but my career hit a dead-end the second Ironspine gave me babysitting duty. There’s no way in hell I’m going to stay the same rank for the rest of my life, Leith.” The two men argue as Blake watches the makeshift doorway slowly become complete, wondering which part of this was actually _planned_. 

He turns to look at the bodies on the floor of the shuttle – one of the soldiers has fallen halfway atop the row of seats so it looks like he’s at a prayer service – and the doorway materializes with a concussive _bang_ thanks to charges placed on the outer hull.

DeWitt yanks Blake close, pressing the gun against his skull, as the Maliwan invaders swarm inside. It’s not unlike the moment when DeWitt himself boarded a different shuttle in search of the promotion Blake’s capture would bring. “Hands up,” they’re warned. “All of you.”

Blake folds his arms across his chest defiantly. “No.”

“Put them up,” DeWitt says, tapping at Blake’s temple with the gun’s muzzle.

“I said that I will not. Unlike _some_ of us, I say what I mean.”

The only person remotely interested in compliance is Sergeant Leith, so the Maliwan troops decide to train their weapons on all three of them while their commander is apprised of the situation. The highest ranking officer present finally steps forward with a communication device held flat in his palm, and Blake watches the commander’s hologram take shape just above it. “ _Which of you is Andrew Leith?_ ” the woman asks.

Leith clears his throat. “I’m Sergeant Leith, ma’am.”

“ _I was told to expect you and Jeffrey Blake._ ” She turns her gaze to DeWitt next – more precisely, to the gun that’s still being held to Blake’s head. “ _ **You** have one minute to convince me not to have you killed._”

“I can tell you the exact coordinates to both places that Crimson Lance troops will be waiting to ambush your forces. Admiral Ares sent us out as bait for you, ma’am. He knows Leith betrayed him, and he’ll be coming to reclaim Mister Blake.”

This _could_ be part of the plan, but Blake has the creeping feeling that it isn’t. The Maliwan commander looks at them silently for a few more moments before reaching her decision. “ _Very well; you’ll be responsible for Blake’s safety until your intel checks out. Take them_.” This last comment is to her men, who begin to move forward.

Three of the soldiers separate Leith from the group and he looks around in confusion as Blake and DeWitt are led towards whatever conveyance his kidnappers have brought with them. “What about me?”

The commander’s gaze finds Leith, and hardens. “ _I have no further need of you. Thank you for your service, Sergeant_.”

“But…but…” Leith appears dumbfounded and Blake would have felt sorry for the man if not for the fact of his betrayal. “You said I’d be able to join my brother, if I killed Ares for you.”

“Your brother was dead the moment you agreed, you fool,” Blake says, unable to keep silent any longer. “Maliwan doesn’t take hostages.”

“ _Indeed we don’t, but don’t worry. You’re free to join your brother now, Sergeant Leith._ ” 

The Maliwan commander’s hologram disappears, and both Blake and DeWitt are ushered through the jagged hole in the shuttle’s hull. Behind them, Leith’s momentary speechlessness shifts into a yell…which is abruptly silenced when the three soldiers discharge their weapons.

On the transport, Blake is placed in a holding cell while DeWitt is escorted somewhere. He assumes it’s to deliver information to DeWitt’s new employers but at this point, he doesn’t give a damn. A shimmering force field snaps into place around Blake’s cell, the Maliwan logo slowly scrolling across it and giving him something to stare at while he disassociates.

The first rescue attempt comes less than an hour later, though nobody sees fit to inform him of what’s going on – he’s left to figure it out for himself as the ship rocks wildly and nearly sends him right into the force field. Blake lacks any urge to find out if it’s anything like a Hyperion competitor deterrence field, and scrambles in the other direction…and then he has to go in the _other_ direction when the ship sustains another hit.

He’s tense and sweating by the time DeWitt reappears to station himself outside Blake’s cell. “Everything okay in there, Mister Blake?”

“No, it is _not_ ,” Blake seethes. “You know quite well that it isn’t, and _why_ it isn’t.”

His former bodyguard turns away. “Well, that can’t be helped.”

“It could if you were not traitorous scum,” Blake reminds him, fighting the urge to wrench a shoe off and bounce it off the back of DeWitt’s head. It would likely be disintegrated and then he would be left looking ridiculous unless he threw the other one, as well. Contenting himself with giving DeWitt his best poisonous glare, Blake sits down on the floor to wait.

The Maliwan commander makes her appearance in short order, flanked by three soldiers dressed in those god-awful jodhpurs and two behemoths wearing quilted armor with matching flamethrowers. Blake wonders why they seem to have massive metal balls strapped to their shoulders and is so intent upon studying them that he misses the commander’s first few sentences. “…Mister Blake? I’m sorry, are we bothering you?”

Blake looks at his captor. “Indeed, you are. Let’s not forget that I am here through no choice of my own.”

She smiles faintly. “You volunteered yourself as bait, Mister Blake – let’s not forget _that_ , either. Admiral Ares tried to trick us into taking you, but we have the means to ensure that it’s the last time he will ever fool us.”

“And what, pray tell, are those means?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” She lifts a hand, and the force field deactivates. “Please; join us.”

The two heavies move to bracket each side of Blake’s cell, intent upon enforcing the politely worded demand. “You’ve yet to tell me your name,” Blake hints.

She smiles again. “Your life partner has an unfortunate habit of trimming family trees when the spirit moves him, so you’ll have to excuse my rudeness when I say that my name is none of your business.”

Their conversation ends there, which is fine by Blake, and he follows her to a surprisingly large shuttle bay - he’d been laboring under the assumption that he was aboard a much smaller vessel. The soldiers box him in, presumably to keep Blake from actually seeing where he is and where he’s going; he’s not entirely sure why they don’t just blindfold him.

He’s shunted to three different locations, and allowed no more than a glimpse of his surroundings each time, until arriving at what seems to be his final destination. Blake knows enough about the Maliwan Corporation to recognize that he’s being taken aboard one of their standard battleships, devoid of any distinguishing characteristics - even if Blake somehow manages to contact Ted, he won’t be able to supply any useful information pertaining to his whereabouts.

Blake is finally deposited in a stateroom and given a meal he has no intention of eating. Everything he could, within reason, use to either escape or contact Ted has been removed. Given the specific nature of his relationship with an Omega Assassin, however, Blake can actually spot three different viable escape routes. It’s almost a shame that he won’t be able to take advantage of them.

He amuses himself by examining the furnishings for monitoring devices, finding at least ten of the things and dumping them into a bowl. Firmly suppressing the urge to pour water over them, Blake wanders about the room and then decides to go for a walk – the guards posted outside his door exchange panicked glances.

“Uh….you’re not supposed to leave,” one of them says as he walks right past them.

Blake keeps going. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“But-”

“Just get the new guy here,” the other one hisses.

“Oh. Right.”

Blake continues wandering the halls and waiting for someone to actually stop him from doing it. Reinforcements arrive in the form of Master Sergeant Elijah DeWitt, who has the audacity to be wearing a Maliwan uniform. “Good heavens, you look dreadful. I’d never imagined the price exacted for treason would include immediate loss of all fashion sense,” Blake says.

“Very funny. Now, get back in your room – you can’t do whatever you want,” DeWitt says. “This isn’t an Atlas ship, and you’re not on Promethea.”

“Neither are you, so you are cordially invited to kiss my-”

He doesn’t even see DeWitt’s arm move, but Blake’s head rocks back from the impact when DeWitt backhands him. The coppery tang of blood begins to fill his mouth as they stare at each other. “Get the _fuck_ back in that room, Blake.”

To hell with exhibiting good manners at all times, Blake thinks, spitting the blood directly into the traitor’s face. DeWitt hits him again, knocking him to the floor.

“Major DeWitt,” comes the voice of the Maliwan commander. “What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing? You two; get him up.” Blake is lifted to his feet, still dazed from the blow, while DeWitt is dressed down in full view of his new peers. “You were not brought on board to carry out a personal vendetta, and if you would like to keep your new rank I highly suggest that you remember that. Take him to the medbay and get his face seen to before Admiral Ares demands proof-of-life and sees what you’ve done.”

An aide of some kind clears his throat from beyond her left elbow. “Actually, ma’am, he’s just contacted us.”

Her eyes narrow in warning. “Bring him to the bridge and get a syringe on the way.”

“A major already? My, my,” Blake goads, his head throbbing from being struck so hard. He drags the back of his hand across his mouth to wipe away the bloody spittle, intending to have _something_ to show Ted even if DeWitt tries to erase any other evidence of Blake’s mistreatment. “You must be proud of yourself.”

DeWitt’s hand clamps around his elbow, forcing him down a different corridor. “I have nothing left to lose, Blake, and it’s all thanks to you. Remember that.”

“I’d be glad to, if that’s what helps you sleep at night.”

They stop at, oddly enough, one of Zed’s vendors that has been installed just outside of a small medical suite. DeWitt gets an InstaHealth and orders Blake to roll up his sleeve, then moves closer to administer the injection. “You’ll be transferred again in a few hours – he won’t come for you personally until then,” DeWitt murmurs, then raises his voice again. “Don’t even _think_ it, Blake.”

“Get away from me,” Blake warns, pulling his arm back angrily. DeWitt gives Blake an unfriendly shove, presumably towards the bridge of the ship, and stays behind him to bark out directions.

His mouth may be healing rapidly, but Blake feels as if he’s undergoing emotional whiplash – precisely which of DeWitt’s statements is he supposed to believe? At this point it would be foolish, indeed, to trust _anything_ DeWitt says.

They move onto the bridge and Blake glances around at the soldiers present, wondering if it’s always so quiet there, until he turns to look at the main viewscreen to find Ted looking back at him. “Now,” Ted says in his Assassin voice, his gaze flicking towards the Maliwan commander, “maybe you’d like to tell me why there’s blood on his teeth.”

Blake’s lip compress in irritation. “It’s lovely to see you, too.”


	19. The Waiting Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On-the-job training continues as Ted and Corporal Holden wait for their time to strike.

God, he hates this.

Blake will be back where he belongs soon enough, Ted thinks, trying to restrain himself from teleporting over there right now. The commanding officer, who has refused to give him her name, spins a tale about Blake falling as a direct result of the Atlas recovery team.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Ted asks. “Blake, did you suddenly forget how to walk?”

“ _Well, I_ -” 

Blake is cut off by the commander. “ _You’ve seen that he’s alive. Take him back to his rooms_ ,” she orders and Ted finally notices that DeWitt is there, dressed in one of those hideous Maliwan uniforms. Blake’s bodyguard glances at Ted guiltily, which probably means that he’s the reason Blake has bloody teeth and a stain on his cuffs. He’ll feel even guiltier once Ted tells him that they were unable to revive one of the men he’d shot aboard the shuttle.

“You can either exchange him now, or wait until the collateral exceeds more than just you and your subordinates,” Ted tells her. “It’s your choice.”

“ _Any further attempts to board us will fail, Admiral. My commanding officer will be in touch with you shortly, so I suggest you stand down and wait for him to contact you,”_ she says.

Corporal Holden slides a note beneath the screen and he glances down at it before looking back at the woman on the other end of the connection. “I’m not a patient man, Colonel Tau.” Her face pales at the realization that he knows exactly who she is, and he smiles slightly. “You have one hour.”

He signs off and turns to his protégée, who is scrubbing her hands through her hair wildly. “Why one hour?”

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

“The cowl itches. Did Minerva have _lice_ , by any chance? You never said about the hour.”

“Don’t think so,” Ted says, watching her squirm like a lunatic. “Hour’s just standard if you wanna make threats – we’re not goin’ over there ‘til I find out who’s in charge, anyway.” 

Her scratching is becoming more frenzied, so he puts a stop to it by performing a ridge hand strike to her left arm. “ _Ow!_ What the _fuck_ , sir!”

“Your head don’t itch anymore, does it? You’re welcome.”

Holden glares at him while she rubs at her arm. “I can’t believe _two_ people wanted you.”

“Your callsign is still very much up in the air, Holden. If you ain’t nice to me I’m liable to make it somethin’ like Corporal Chlamydia,” Ted warns.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and I will; don’t try me.” She rolls her eyes at him and he laughs, motioning her over to a chair. “C’mon, Killer – you need t’put your hair up so it doesn’t shift around. The constant rubbing is what’s makin’ it itch so bad.”

Holden sits down and lets him section her hair, watching him in the mirrored surface of the darkened ECHO screen. “Sir…if I can ask…?”

Ted starts the first braid. “Go on.”

“Did you braid Commandant Steele’s hair, too?”

“Sometimes,” he admits. “Not too often.” Ted smiles at the memory of the first time he’d done so; it was a few hours before she’d figured out that he was Ares.

“What was she like?” Holden asks cautiously.

He ties off the braid and starts a second one. “Biggest pain in the ass you ever met.”

“No, really.”

“For real,” Ted promises. “It was her way or the hallway. She was competitive, and real prickly when it came to makin’ sure she got the respect she was due…how many of these you want, three or four?”

Holden clears her throat. “Three is good, but how can you just…rattle off a list of her faults like that? I thought you loved her.”

“When you love someone, you gotta love _all_ of ‘em – not just the good parts. Helga drove me up the freakin’ wall sometimes, but she was also a lot kinder than anyone knew. She was smart. Funny, too, and lively as hell. You wouldn’t believe even _half_ of what that girl would get up to.”

“You still miss her, don’t you?”

“Every day,” Ted admits softly, finishing the last braid. “So, it’s your turn – if you don’t _think_ you’ve ever been in love before, what’s the closest you ever been?”

Holden gets up from her seat and leans towards her makeshift mirror, patting at the braids experimentally. “Well…Elijah’s actually really fun to be around. I guess I’d say he’s the closest.”

What! “Elijah? _Blake’s_ Elijah? De _Witt?”_

“Well…yeah. He’d actually be _my_ Elijah though, wouldn’t he, sir?”

“I thought you and…?”

“Ballard? Admiral, if you think I’m going to date anyone dumb enough to leave armory codes at the World’s Largest Bullet, you need a lot more therapy than you’re already getting,” she says, startling him into laughter.

“But… _DeWitt?”_

His protégée shrugs. “I dunno, I really like him. He’s sweet, funny…”

“De _Witt?”_

Holden grins suddenly. “Plus, he’s got a really big dick.” He laughs hard enough to give himself a stomach ache and when Ted flops into a chair so that he can calm down, all it takes is one look at her for him to start laughing again. She laughs, too, until she realizes that she’s not really supposed to be so familiar with a superior officer. “Oh…I’m sorry, Admiral.”

“Don’t be a pain in the ass,” he scolds.

“I’m sor-”

“Quit it!” Ted taps his fingertips against his lips, eyeing her. “How good are you in close quarters?”

She confesses that she’s not that great, he proposes that they take a little time making her better at it, and Holden is soon too busy to worry about how she is and isn’t supposed to act around him. They don’t have the necessary time to actually help her improve, but the half-hour they spend sparring gives him a good feel for her abilities. Ted feels another tug at his conscience at the thought that Holden’s first mission as an assassin might very well be her last; she’s decent at hand-to-hand, but they’ll be heavily outnumbered. She’ll need to be a lot more than just ‘decent.’

Trial by fire, indeed.

“There’s no way I’ll be able to keep up,” she says when he’s guiding her through stretching exercises.

“Maybe, maybe not. Inhale, reachin’ towards your ankles…the real test for you’s gonna come when it’s time to cycle through the New-U.” Ted motions for her to switch her legs. “If you never been through it, now’s the best time. Can’t be an Assassin if you’re afraid to die.”

Holden stares at him. “You want me to…kill myself, or are _you_ going to do it?”

“Whichever,” Ted shrugs, figuring that she’ll most likely decline.

“I…I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“That’s fine, too.” Ted briefly considers killing her right then and there to force the issue, but it’s a move the old administration would’ve pulled. He’s never forgotten how the female Lance Assassins were trained, and he’ll never forget how _he_ was trained. His decision to do better involves this, too. “We’ll get you ready, kid. Don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

She nods and then, in a clear bout of temporary insanity, pulls her sidearm and shoots herself. Which isn’t a _bad_ thing but It’s not a clean shot and it’s not fatal, either; Holden writhes around on the floor in agony looking like she can’t believe what she’s just done, either.

“What the fuck!” Ted comes to his feet, wondering what the hell he’s doing training someone who’s this far off her fucking rocker. “That was the dumbest freakin’ thing I’ve ever seen,” he yells. “I should just let you bleed out.” He unsheathes his sword and rams it into her chest, killing her instantly.

He gets to the New-U station just as it’s starting to digistruct her, and leans against the wall to wait. Holden materializes on the floor, mid-wriggle, and her whole body jerks in shock as she realizes that she’s been brought back to life. “You stabbed me,” is the first thing the idiot says.

“You’re welcome,” he says pointedly.

“I had it under control!”

“Yeah, I could tell on account of how you were floppin’ around like a fish.” Ted sinks down onto the floor beside her, watching her rapidly changing facial expressions as the trauma races to catch up. “So; how was it?”

Holden’s voice starts to tremble right along with her lower lip. “It was…it was _awful_.”

Ted checks his ECHO device and sees that they still have a few more minutes, so he extends his hand which she completely ignores in favor of flinging herself into his arms. “It’ll get easier.” He can’t remember ever being this young despite the evidence to the contrary. “After the thirtieth time, you’ll hardly even feel it.” He holds her until the worst of her shakes pass, and Holden sits back to rub at her eyes.

“Sorry, sir.”

“That was a damn fool thing t’do. We get back, first thing you’re doin’ is an anatomy course,” Ted says sharply enough to break her out of her self-pity. “If you gotta off yourself, make it clean an’ do it fast. The hell were you _thinkin’_?”

Holden swallows hard, letting him pull her to her feet. “I don’t know, I guess I though you’d be disappointed if I didn’t do it. _You_ would’ve done it.”

Oh, for god’s sweet sake. “The Crimson Lance already has one messed-up motherfucker in Assassin armor, girl; it don’t need two of ‘em. I’m not trainin’ you to be another me. I need you t’be _you_. You get me, Corporal?” 

Ted gives her an affectionate shake, and she leans into his side briefly. “I get you, Admiral.”

“Good. Now, get your helmet back on ‘cause we’re gonna be late.”

He uses the implant to teleport back to the captain’s ready room and drops into the chair after making sure that the background is still covered by the black sheet they’d hung over the Dahl propaganda. Colonel Tau has a resigned look on her face, clearly having hoped that he would have declined to contact her. She probably also thinks that there’s no way she’s going to escape unscathed…and she’s absolutely right. “ _Admiral_ ,” she greets. “ _What can I do for you?”_

“I wasn’t aware that Maliwan hired comedians. Your hour is up, and I’d like to speak to whomever is in charge. As a courtesy, you see, before I come over there and make sure that you have the worst day of your life,” he says pleasantly. Holden slips into the room and places herself at an angle so that she can see the screen.

“ _Something tells me that you’re planning on coming for a visit regardless,”_ Tau says.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

Her eyes drift past whatever screen she’s using, then return to him. “ _I believe you’re already acquainted with General Rhodes,”_ she says, and the surprise at hearing _that_ name is like cold water being dashed into his face. Ted just barely stops himself from betraying his shock – across the room, Holden’s instinctive flinch makes him glad that he hadn’t stationed her behind his seat.

“So in addition to comedians, Maliwan hires rapists. I hope your Human Resources department has expanded accordingly,” Ted comments, forcing his expression to remain neutral as Mitchell Rhodes enters the frame. Unlike those surrounding him on the bridge of the Maliwan ship, Rhodes is wearing a Crimson Lance uniform. The man’s practically a walking corpse, his papery skin covered in liver spots with the occasional mole sprouting more hair than what remains on his head.

His old tormentor - and the emphasis is on _old_ \- has the nerve to smile at him. “ _Now, now, Colonel. This is exactly the sort of behavior that’s earned you all those…reprimands.”_

“You’re behind the times, Rhodes, and you’re no longer entitled to that uniform.”

_“And I suppose that you think that you **are**?_” Rhodes’ smile makes Ted’s skin crawl, as does the lascivious way the other man looks at him through glittering, sunken eyes. “ _You’re no admiral, boy, and you never were – I’m relieving you of duty, effective immediately.”_

Ted tilts his head, intent upon keeping his breathing slow and even despite the sharp burn of hatred souring his stomach. He’s not about to give Rhodes the reaction the old monster is clearly trying to elicit. “Your authority over me and anyone else serving in the Lance expired the moment I was brought back to Promethea…and your years of preying upon the vulnerable have rendered your life forfeit.”

Rhodes doesn’t seem happy at all that his ploy hasn’t worked, and his eyes narrow. _“Tread carefully, Colonel Blanco. You’ve forgotten that I know your weaknesses, and I’m in possession of at least two. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to happen to either of them, now, would you?”_

“They can take care of themselves,” Ted replies coolly. “Can you say the same? The next time I see your face, I’ll remove your head from your shoulders and mount it on the front of my flagship. I suggest you enjoy your last remaining hours, Rhodes, because I’m coming for you.”

He cuts the connection and stares at the blank screen for several long moments before Holden’s restless movement draws his attention. “I thought he was dead.”

“He disappeared the day I killed the rest of ‘em,” Ted says. “I’ve always wondered where he ran to…I can’t believe Maliwan took him in without neutering him first.” He’ll be happy to provide _that_ particular service; all of Promethea will thank him for it. 

“Do you think he’ll…?” 

Holden doesn’t finish her question, and she doesn’t have to. “The fucker’s half-dead as it is; he’ll threaten, but he won’t do it himself. Rhodes _could_ get one of his pet troopers to do it for him, though,” Ted says thoughtfully. “He always liked doin’ that.”

“Yeah,” Holden whispers. “He did.”

Ted can’t wait to kill him…but he’s going to _have_ to wait, because they’re still not seeing the amount of Maliwan ships that Ted _knows_ Rhodes will be bringing. The message Ted intends to send to the Katagawa family depends upon that invasion fleet. “He’s on borrowed time, Killer. The minute they bring their fleet through, it’s on. Sharpen a knife and keep it handy – I’ll let you have a crack at the old bastard before I collect my hood ornament.”

She give a sharp nod of acknowledgement and turns on her heel to leave. Ted checks in with his strike teams to find that they’ve seeded themselves among the crews of the Maliwan ships, and they’ve already identified the ship on which Blake is being held. 

The fleet can’t get there soon enough; Ted longs to get his ass over there and kill someone.

Yanking the sheet from the Dahl poster, Ted tosses it onto the captain’s desk and goes in search of his protégée. Holden could use more sparring practice.


End file.
